Marked
by gf7
Summary: Regina puts her life on the line to rescue Snow and Emma from the old world (and Cora), but due to the lengths she'll go, she'll need the Savior to save her as well. Non-romantic friendship SQ.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A season 2 piece that will quickly go AU, but likely run somewhat parallel to the actual season.

Eventually, this will be a Emma/Regina growing friendship piece as I believe that their ever-evolving and complicated relationship is one of the primary bedrocks of the show. It will also feature Regina/Emma/Henry and Charming/Snow/Emma/Regina.

Ultimately, this story is about pain, loss, redemption, forgiveness and new beginnings.

There's likely to be some salty language and a degree of violence along the way. I'm hoping to update a couple times a week, but my work schedule will dictate creative availability.

Please enjoy, and of course, let me know what you think.

* * *

She's still marked.

Sitting alone in her suddenly entirely too large and empty kitchen, comforted by only the picture frames around her and the many empty bottles of red wine cluttering the counters, Regina Mills finds herself starring at her hand. There's no symbol there at the moment, but she knows it's still there. It will always be there.

Because some things never go away.

Things such as loneliness.

She's been living with this feeling for more than three decades now – far longer than that perhaps. Henry had helped for quite awhile, but his slow and eventual drift away from her had brought back all the pain. Stronger perhaps than ever.

Because she loves Henry in a way that she has never loved anyone else.

Not even Daniel, and yes, she had loved Daniel dearly, desperately.

She closes her eyes, and lets the almost unbelievable events of the past two days wash over her. Within the last thirty hours, her curse has been broken, her life threatened and her enemies whisked away.

Well, that makes it all sound so very simple. And really, it's anything but.

She's deeply almost unimaginably conflicted, which is hardly new for her, but right now, the confusion and uncertainty weigh heavily on her. Emma and Snow, no one knows where they are. Through the hat somewhere. Sent back presumably to a Fairytale Land that she's not sure still exists. She suspects it does thanks to her ability to draw the poisoned apple from it previously, but she's not absolutely sure.

And if it doesn't, well then she's finally succeeded in destroying both Snow White and the rather obnoxiously troublesome savior Emma Swan.

So why is she so troubled by this? Their losses - perhaps even deaths - should be balm to her ruined soul. They should allow her rest, her need for vengeance finally sated. Right?

Things are never quite so easy.

She takes another sip from the glass (others would have moved to drinking straight from the bottle by now, she's not that far gone just yet), her eyes flickering around the kitchen. They settle on a beautifully framed school picture of Henry, his boyish smile wide and unreserved. He's wearing a red and black flannel shirt in the photo, the collar of it half-flipped up. His hair is messy and typically uncombed, a strand of it flopping over his forehead adorably.

She remembers the first time she'd seen the picture, and the rather unexpected feelings that had surged through her. Unreserved, uncontrolled love.

Things she's never felt before, not even for Daniel. Of course, that had been a different kind of love entirely. A romantic and passionate type. True love.

Turns out – and she wonders why she'd never realized this before – that true love isn't just about romantic love. It _can_ exists between a parent and a child, too.

And maybe – just maybe – between a mother and her son, it can be even more true and pure that way.

At least for her.

Henry, on the other hand, well how could someone so innocent and good ever truly love someone like her? How could he even begin to try? No, that emotion is reserved for the woman he considers to be his real mother.

For his adopted mother, there is only loathing and disgust.

She finishes off the glass and fills it again.

She tries to remind herself of the promise Henry had extracted from Emma – the assurance that the blonde sheriff would keep the former (presumably) mayor safe from harm. That has to mean something, right?

Unless Emma had been lying.

Right now, with her thoughts as dark and hurtful as they are and with her heart as pained and grieving as it is, she actually considers this possibility. Turns it over in her head and examines it.

And then pushes it to the side (though not completely away).

What reason would the ever heroic Emma Swan have to lie? What reason would she have to protect the feelings and emotions of the woman who had tried to kill her and almost ended up killing their son?

None, she realizes.

And yet, because she is who she is, she still can't completely discount that there might have been another reason for Henry's supposed request for safety.

She sighs, the exhaustion and fatigue settling over her like a thick quilt.

Thankfully, this night will be over soon. Yes, tomorrow and the hangover that daybreak brings with it will be horrendous, but at least, tonight – with any luck or mercy - will be silent and empty.

And for once, maybe thanks to all of the alcohol that she has consumed, sleep will be dreamless and perhaps even painless.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

It isn't.

* * *

She dreams.

It's more of a nightmare really.

She's in a room – a courtroom – bound at the hands. She's standing in front of everyone in the town, her sins exposed to all. The fury and hatred she feels coming at her blisters her skin.

And then there's Snow and Charming and Emma. They all stand in judgment of her. With nary a word in support of her, they condemn and convict her.

She tries to defend herself, but she's wasting air doing so. She tries to explain that she wasn't always like this, but these words are met by a cold laugh from everyone in the room. She tries to remind Emma that she had helped her save Henry, but the blonde simply stares at her with disgust.

She whispers that they're not so unlike she and Emma, they've both been through hell in their lives. They've both felt unwanted and unloved. The words sound ridiculous even to her own ears because really, they're nothing unlike.

She had turned to evil while Emma, in spite of the nightmare that had been cast upon her thanks to Regina's vengeful actions, had managed to remain good.

She'd remained the Savior, the hero of the story.

The White Knight who would vanquish the great evil. In this case, the Evil Queen.

Only in this nightmare, it doesn't go quite like this. In this one, it's not the furious Emma Swan who lifts up her sword to strike the killing blow. No, here, in this dark hideous world created by Regina's own fears, it's Henry who dispatches her.

It's Henry who executes her.

She wakes up screaming.

* * *

When Charming arrives at the Mayor's Mansion at just after ten in the morning, he finds a sight that he would never have expected in a million years; that of the dastardly wicked Evil Queen looking utterly exhausted and completely shattered.

She's reclining (hardly luxuriously, he notes) on the couch in her study, a thin blue blanket drawn up over her legs. She's dressed in a manner no one but Henry has ever seen; simply and like anyone other person – in sweats (albeit somewhat stylish ones).

He blinks when he sees her, his face creasing with an uncertain frown. Something is very wrong here. "Regina," he says.

"I understand that I'm persona non grata, but we just walk right in now, do we, dear?" she asks, looking up at him with eyes rimmed red by exhaustion. Her voice is hoarse and shaky, as though perhaps she's been screaming or yelling.

"I wanted to talk to you about the portal. We need to get it back open."

"I told you already; I have no idea how to reopen it." She looks away from him, loathing herself for doing it. She's tired, though, and not at all interested in a fight.

"I don't believe you."

Her eyes snap up, and for a flicker of a moment, fire crackles in her caramel colored eyes. "Of course you don't."

He shifts anxiously. "Why should I believe you, Regina?" he demands. "You lie about everything."

She nods sharply. "You're right; you shouldn't believe anything I say."

And again, she throws him. Her behavior right now is completely confounding him. Even in the old world, he hadn't known this woman well. Certainly not like Snow had, but the encounters he had had with her had been full of arrogance, fury and bluster. This woman in front of him is showing none of those things.

"What are you up to?" he demands. "What is this?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"This act. This…whatever this is." He wrinkles his nose then, his eyes settling on a glass sitting next to her hand. It looks like orange juice, but he suspects that there is something else in there as well. "Are you drunk?"

"Not nearly. Now, dear, unless you have a specific question for me, I would ask that you leave me to my solitude. You've already taken Henry from me –"

"And you've taken Snow and Emma from me."

She laughs at that, the sound harsh and pained. "Not this time."

"If we hadn't been protecting your pathetic life…"

She looks away, causing him to stop speaking. If he didn't know better, she almost looks…guilty? But that can't be. Because this is a woman who has done remarkable acts of evil without blinking. Why should the fact that his wife and daughter had sacrificed themselves for her bother her?

Thing is, though, even he can clearly see that it does.

After a long moment of silence, Regina quietly, without looking up at the simmering prince standing above her, says, "I will find them."

"What?"

"I will find a way to bring them back. Whether you choose to believe me or not, I promise you that."

He tilts his head. "Why? Why make such a promise? Why do you care?"

"Henry."

"I don't understand."

She sighs. "It's simple really. My son hates me. The only way he might….not…is if I find his…mother." She blinks when she says this, and he's struck with the uncomfortable realization that perhaps she's forcing back tears.

"All right. So what's your plan?"

"I need magic."

"You already have magic. You nearly killed me with it."

She laughs derisively at this. "I have tricks, dear." She lifts up her hand and flicks it, causing a chair to slide across the room and under him. She motions for him to sit. Once he reluctantly does so, she continues. "That's all I have. Cheap worthless parlor tricks that any child with a hint of magic could do." There's disgust in her tone, and he wonders if she's upset about the lack of ability to do magic or the fact that it is _she_ that cannot do it.

"But yesterday, when you opened the portal…"

"Yes, yesterday. It would seem that your dearly beloved daughter has quite the…interesting effect on me," she replies. Her voice is quiet, thoughtful, and he thinks that maybe her statement is a bit loaded, but he's not sure why.

"Again, I don't understand."

"I'm not sure I do, either. Not completely anyway. But what I know is that yesterday, when she touched me, I felt…strong. I felt powerful again, like I could control anything and everything. Like I could control every kind of magic there is. It lasted for a few hours after she was gone, but now all I have are my…tricks."

"So no killer vines?" he asks cautiously.

She smiles at that, but it's a haunted one. There's no arrogance in it. When she answers, it's with a throaty humorless chuckle. "No, David, you're safe."

"David," he repeats, rolling the name over in his brain.

She tilts her head. "Would you prefer Charming? Or James? Neither of which are your actual names either?" she reminds him. She knows that right now she shouldn't needle him, but some things, she can't quite resist.

And reminding this man that he isn't quite all the storybooks say he is either seems somehow very important.

"David is…fine," he says after a moment, but he's frowning now because it seems to be occurring to him that he's not completely sure who he is anymore. He has the memories of James and David and somewhere in between, there has to be one man. One person. Who that is, he doesn't know.

Not yet anyway.

She simply nods at this, then reaches for the glass of orange juice and brings it to her lips. She sips as gracefully as she can manage (yes, she's a bit tipsy again, but she has no intentional of allowing him to see her sloppy).

"There is alcohol in that," he says quietly, leaving no room for dispute. And so she doesn't, she simply meets his eyes. He shakes his head. "If you're going to help me – help Emma and Snow and Henry - I need you sober."

"Make no mistake, I will find a way to bring Snow and Ms. Swan back, and I will find a way to get Henry to…forgive me, if that's even possible. If that means working with you, well then so be it. Beyond that, however, I will not willingly allow you rights over me or what I do."

"Being drunk won't help you with any of those things," he tells her, choosing to ignore the statement about rights over her. If they were in the old world, this wouldn't be a question. She wouldn't be on pseudo house arrest as she is now. No, most likely she'd be in a dark wet dungeon somewhere awaiting trial and probable execution for her many hideous crimes.

But they're not in the old world, and her rotting away in a jail cell won't help bring back Snow and Emma. So for now, here she stays. Master of herself.

She stands then, eyes snapping angrily. "I am not drunk." She stamps on each word, over annunciating them to make her point.

He stands, too. "You tell yourself whatever you need to. Just make sure that when the time comes, you're ready to act. You owe both Snow and Emma that."

Regina doesn't deny his words, and again, he's thrown. He knows of her feelings for Snow – everyone does. That she's admitting that she owes Snow anything seems almost unbelievable. He wonders if it's a trick, if she's playing an angle.

She must be.

But what?

After a moment of thought, he changes topics, switches back to the how. "What about magic do you need?"

She nods her head, seemingly pleased at the change as well. "Mine isn't working as it should. Who knows it if ever will work properly in this world."

"That's a bad thing?"

"I suppose that depends on the point of view," she answers. Even through the light alcoholic haze that's draped casually over her, she's beginning to grow annoyed with David. His thought process is too simple, too basic and almost innocent. He sees everything in terms of blacks hats and white saviors. He doesn't seem to understand the complexities of actual inner turmoil and complicated feelings. He doesn't seem to grasp the destructiveness of hurt.

"So are you trying to tell me that you need the same power you had previously to find them?" David queries dubiously. "Because I'm not sure I can let that –"

She shakes her head to stop him, not interested in hearing him tell her how he would try to stand in her way. "No, not that power. Besides, even if I did need it, the power that I once had came from years of practice and emotions that I…well none of that matters right now. The power we need to find in order to open portal, I think maybe we can reproduce with the right spells."

"So we need a spell book?"

"Yes. And I suspect Mr. Gold might have one, but I also suspect that he might not be terribly agreeable to giving it to me."

"What did you do to him to make him want to kill you?"

She laughs. "Everyone wants to kill me. He's hardly unique except in the fact that he and I have tried to kill each other a half dozen at least over the years. And besides, what he wanted to do to me…it was…worse than death,"

"It was like what you did to Snow with the sleeping draft."

"No, dear. What I did to Snow was admittedly truly awful, but her soul wouldn't have been in torment, just her mind. Her dreams would have been plagued and dark, but painless beyond that if you can try to understand what I mean. But when a wraith takes your soul, it consumes it. Little by little, throughout eternity. Every evil that can be committed to a human soul, a wraith calls forth."

At the thought of this, she reaches for the glass again. This time, the sip she takes is far more generous, and he sees the way her hand shakes just a bit.

She's scared, and for reasons he can't quite understand, this unsettles him.

"Fine. I'll go to Gold. You look for a backup option. One that doesn't include more…orange juice." He looks pointedly at the glass.

She simply nods her head in agreement. Her lack of desire to argue with him – even over something as mundane as her sudden coping method – is something he can't quite wrap his mind around so he doesn't even bother to try.

He turns then, heading for the door.

"Henry," she says softly, her voice as shaky as her hands had been.

"What about him?" he asks without turning.

"Is he all right?"

"His mother and his grandmother are missing. What do you think?"

Choosing to ignore the stab of pain that cuts through her at hearing someone else be called Henry's mother (however true it be), she closes her eyes in sorrow at that. "I never meant to hurt him. Never him."

"Then help me fix this for him."

"I will. Whatever it takes. Please…please tell him that."

"Do right by him, and I will."

"Thank you."

He turns back to look at her, intently searching her face for any sign of deceit or trickery. Instead, what he sees is the most honesty he's ever seen from her; she looks utterly broken, completely vulnerable and exposed.

He nods his head, then turns and exits the study.

She watches him go, hears the door click shut behind him. She takes a breath then, reaches for the glass, drinks down the contents, and then stands.

Whatever it takes, she tells herself.

She will bring them home.

She will make Henry proud.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so very much for all the kind words thus far, they are very much appreciated.

As stated previously, this piece will run roughly parallel to the season. If aired episodes provide details for bits I haven't gotten to, and they serve the overall story, they will be incorporated. If not, well - considered this to be semi-canonical AU.

This chapter provided a little bit of Emma/Snow as well as some Regina/Charming. With an added dollop of Cora!

Once more, enjoy and thanks!

* * *

There's something uncomfortably familiar about this woman. This is the first thought that goes through Emma Swan's admittedly deeply confused and intensely overwhelmed mind as she stares into the charcoal black dark eyes of the oddly dignified (considering where they are) lady standing in front of her.

Cora, she'd called herself.

"Do I know you?" Emma finally asks.

"No, dear, I don't think you do." And with that one little word…"dear"...Emma is once again struck by a wave of familiarity.

"But I do," Snow says softly, stepping up behind her daughter. Her eyes are wide and pained, and she's clearly bent a bit more than she should be, but all the same, she's on her feet, which has to be a good thing. "I do know you."

Emma turns to look at her, head tilted in confusion. She's about to address her as Mary Margaret – not mom, not yet – but stops. She should be called Snow, right? She's Snow freaking White. That's who she is, who she actually is.

Oh, hell.

Yeah, overwhelmed is a pretty good word for how she feels right about now.

Just about a day and a half ago, the reality of all of this actually being reality had kicked in for her. That had been followed by fighting a dragon, stopping a murderous mob of fairytale characters, protecting the Evil Queen from a soul-sucking wraith and then getting yanked through a portal and into the old world.

Just so that she and Snow could then be tied up and dragged behind horses.

Perhaps overwhelmed is an underwhelming word for all of this, actually.

"Cora," Snow says, and Emma's quite certain that she hears an undercurrent of anger, maybe even rage there. It's a darker emotion than she's ever heard from Snow, even in regards to Regina, which is something. "I thought you were dead."

"Thought or hoped, dear?"

"Hoped."

"Well then, I'm sorry to disappoint," Cora answers, and her tone has shifted a bit, become less sugary for the moment.

"Somehow I very much doubt that," Snow snaps back. Her posture is rigid, as if ready for a physical fight. It's something Emma's never seen before in this woman. Then again, until a day ago, she'd never seen Snow take out a wraith with fire and a lighter, either.

Apparently her dear old mom is something of a badass.

Weird, just…weird.

"Who is she?" Emma finally pulls her together enough to ask.

"She is right here and she is…"

"Regina's mother," Snow finishes, ill-disguised disgust in her tone. "But I use the term as loosely as possible." She meets Cora's eyes when she says this, daring the taller woman to dispute her words.

Cora just laughs, the tone haughty and superior. And suddenly yes, Emma sees it – she sees Regina in this woman. "What would you know of motherhood, child? Last I'd heard, you'd sent your own daughter through a tree."

"She did," Emma says softly, lifting her eyes up.

Cora tilts her head. "And you're her?" She narrows her eyes, almost curiously. "My, my now, how very terribly interesting this has suddenly become."

That's all Snow needs to see. She steps in front of Emma, ignoring the fact that the blonde is taller than her, and throws an arm out as if to keep her daughter behind her. "You stay the hell away from her," Snow growls. "You've already destroyed one child. You're not touching mine."

Cora laughs again, the sound cruel and cold. "Destroyed her did I? Seems to me she accepted her destiny, embraced her power."

"You're proud of her?" Emma asks, over her mothers' shoulder.

"Proud? Oh, no. That pathetic daughter of mine could never do anything right. She's really quite incapable of it. You, my dear, are living proof of that. But I suppose I should give her at least some credit for trying."

Before Emma can respond – and honestly, she's not one bit sure what she would say in response to this unbelievably vile woman – the wooden door sealing them into the dark pit opens. A shaft of bright white light sprays the cavern.

"The blonde and the shorthaired brunette will step forward now," a voice says. "Slowly. Don't make any sudden moves or you will bleed."

Snow and Emma exchange a wary look, and then both turn towards the entrance. Emma casts a look back at Cora, who is smiling, oddly confident in a way that she simply shouldn't be considering her circumstances.

"We'll continue this conversation later then," Cora says smoothly. It's at that moment when Emma notices just how high Cora is holding her head, like she's better than everyone else around her. It's unsettling.

And again, familiar.

"Come on," Snow directs, taking Emma's hand and pulling her towards the entrance. They meet Mulan there, the stern looking warrior woman holding a crossbow tightly in her hands. She steps aside and lets them exit.

"You're all right then?" she asks Snow as soon as they're outside and the door has been closed behind them. Her eyes slide down and over Snow. Just ten minutes ago she'd knocked Snow unconscious with a propelled blow to the back, the force of it shocking the brunette into blackness for a few moments.

"No thanks to you," Emma shoots back.

"Emma," Snow says softly, and there's a odd lilt – an almost regal tone - to her voice. Then, to Mulan, "You know who I am now, I assume?"

"Your Majesty," Mulan says, then bows. "My apologies. I…I didn't know at the time. One of the others recognized you. I am…I am embarrassed." And to her credit, she looks genuinely horrified by what she'd done.

"Don't be," Snow reassures her, for a moment looking as though she might reach for Mulan, but then choosing not to. "I look far different than I used to, and times are not as they were. I understand your caution, and welcome it."

"Thank you for your grace, your Majesty," Mulan answers solemnly.

"Snow will do."

Mulan simply nods stiffly at that, making it clear that she's not one bit comfortable addressing Snow White by anything but her title.

"What can I address you as?"

"My name is Mulan."

"It's nice to meet you, Mulan. This is my daughter, Emma."

Mulan bows her head in reverence, which just makes Emma shift anxiously.

She's glad then, a moment later, when a question pops into her head. She almost blurts it out, so eager is she to get away from the strange show of fidelity. "Wait a minute. If you know who we are, why did you threaten us a few seconds ago?" Emma queries, confusion creasing her brow.

"Again, I apologize. I did that because I didn't want the… woman in there to know who you are," Mulan admits.

"It's too late for that. Unfortunately, she and I have very unpleasant business with each other," Snow tells her. "What do you know of her now?"

"Not much. When all of the…refugees as you called then…came here, she tried to take power. We don't know who she is – she refuses to say – but she still has magic available to her, and she used it to dire effect. We discovered that something in these caves stops her from using that magic."

"Her name is Cora Mills," Snow tells her. "She's Queen Regina's mother."

Mulan startles at that. "She's the mother of the woman who created the curse."

"Yes."

"Then we should execute her immediately," Mulan growls out as she leads the two women towards the middle of the camp. "Just as we would the queen if she were here with us."

Emma looks at Snow with a lifted eyebrow, "Not much for rule of law here, huh?"

"On the contrary," Mulan fires back. "We have a very strict rule of law now. If you are unable to contribute to the community or are considered a threat, then you are either exiled or…"

"Executed, got it," Emma finishes dryly. "What about trials?"

"There's no time for those anymore. We make sure then when an accusation is made, it's accurate in the first place."

"And you're never wrong? You never exile – or execute – the wrong person or maybe someone who could be redeemed?"

"We don't have time for redemption here."

"Right," Emma frowns.

"You disapprove?"

"No," Snow says quickly. "We're not in any position to disapprove of how you and the other people here have managed to survive. Nor have we any right to. We are…we are guests here. We're here to help however we can. That's all."

Mulan exhales a breath, and then nods her head sharply. "Good. Then come eat. And when you're done, you can explain to all of us how you returned to this land. And then maybe you can explain you brought the wraith back with you."

And with that, she turns and heads towards the circle by the campfire, towards where many members of the group of survivors are consuming dinner.

"I get the feeling that she doesn't much like us," Emma observes.

"She blames us for whatever the wraith did," Snow nods.

"You know this could get ugly."

"These people may be rough now, Emma, but they're no threat to us. My title still holds some sway amongst them," Snow reassures her. "And maybe, if we can win their trust, maybe they can even help us find a way home."

"And what of Cora? Do we just let them execute her?"

"I think that if it were that simple, they would have done it already," Snow replies grimly. "Chances are that no one dares go into the cave with her because they're not completely sure that her magic _is_ controlled in there."

"Is she really that…"

"Evil? She makes the worst of what Regina has ever done look like a simple temper tantrum. That woman is the purest form of evil that I know of."

"You hate her." It's a statement, not a question.

Snow turns to face Emma, clasping a hand around each of her daughters' forearms. "Hate is a strong word, one I'm not comfortable ever using, but I will say this: were it not for that woman, my life would have turned out very very different. Some things – like meeting Charming and having you – worked out for the best, but what she did to Regina, what she helped turn her into…well that's…well some things are simply unforgivable."

"You'll tell me this story later?"

"I think we'll have the time," Snow drawls. "Shall we go eat?"

* * *

She wakes from another nightmare, mercifully silently this time. Sitting up in her bed, Regina places a hand over her heart, feeling the violent hammering of the organ that until quite recently, she had barely believed still existed.

"Calm," she orders herself. She turns slightly, glancing at the clock. It's only three in the morning. So much of this night remains.

So much of every night.

Charming hadn't returned to the house after he'd left to supposedly get her the book of magic. But then, honestly, she hadn't expected him to come back – at least not so quickly. Rumple is a smart and devious little imp; he's not likely to simply hand over that which could in any way shift power away from him. He has to know that magic back in her hands would do exactly that.

And by now, he's certainly told Charming the same thing.

Whether or not he returns, well that will certainly be interesting. She imagines that he'll be conflicted, unsure about working with his enemy. How easily it could backfire, Rumple will have warned him. How easily she will betray him.

Rumple is right to warn him; normally, betrayal would be the only thing on her mind. Getting power back and keeping it.

Things have changed, though.

Henry.

For the first time in her adult life – or at least since Daniel – there is something more important to her than power. Something she craves more than she does the intoxicating high of magic. Love. Simple common love.

She'd nearly forgotten how good, and how awful love can make you feel.

And still she recognizes her near obsessive drive towards it. It's not just about possession anymore, not just about keeping and controlling that which belongs to her – those things she understands. This new feeling, this odd desire to do right by Henry simply because it will make him happy (even if it will never make him love her), it's something she hasn't felt since that horrid day in the stables.

She needs to make Henry happy. She needs to see him smile.

And if that means doing whatever it takes to bring back the woman who has stolen his heart and staked her motherly claim on him, well then so be it.

She rises slowly from the bed, her body stiff and uncomfortable. These many nights of sleeplessness combined with the lack of food and too much alcohol aren't doing her any favors. She's sluggish and exhausted, and not all that interested in the things she needs to do to remedy these issues.

Sleep? No thanks. Simply because every single time she closes her eyes, the nightmares return. Some are about the murderous intents of the people of Storybrooke, others are about she and Snow, some deal with Emma, and still others concern she and Henry. The worst are the ones with her mother, though.

Because her mother always – always – exacts an absolutely heinous revenge in these dreams. And she always – always – ends up begging for mercy.

Mercy, which she never receives.

The other things are more biological – these days, she finds she has no appetite and really no desire to force food upon herself. The alcohol she's been consuming – mostly wine – is simply balm. Not terribly effective, but useful still.

Now, however, looking at her reflection in the mirror above her dresser, she sees how far she's fallen. And she knows there's still so much further to fall. A glance down at her hand – the one she knows is still marked for the wraith – and she remembers all that has brought her to this point.

All that has left once again completely alone.

She glances over at the phone, briefly considering picking it up and calling over to where Henry is. Really, there's no point, though. Even if Charming were to answer it at this ungodly time of night, he certainly wouldn't wake Henry to force him to talk to a woman he can barely tolerate.

She swallows hard at this, feeling the prickle of tears. No, she thinks, angrily. Even now, she won't cry. It won't help anything, and it's weak.

She's so many, many, many things, but weak is not one of them.

She laughs then, because that's a terrible lie. She's where she is now exactly because she _is_ weak, because she gave in and allowed rage and hatred and power to consume her, to control her. She'd allowed dark magic into her soul.

She's allowed it to seduce her, and if she's honest with herself, she'd enjoyed it. It'd been like the greatest drug in the world for her, the most amazing high. It'd swept her up into a giddy hallucinogenic haze and made her feel invincible. It'd bandaged over all of the hurt and sadness and loneliness, and permitted her power intense enough to convince her that the hatred from everyone around her was actually love and respect. And when it wasn't, it'd been pitiful jealousy.

In short, magic had made her feel strong.

That's all over now.

The time for power and control are over. If she's to show Henry that she truly loves him, really and without agenda, she's going to have to prove it to him.

And that means doing whatever it takes to find a way home.

A place she'd hoped to never ever return to.

A place she'll have to return to if she ever wants Henry to look at her with anything but disgust.

* * *

Regina makes her way to the cemetery, descends into the secret room below her fathers' sarcophagus, and extracts a box of books. They're books of history, not magic (those are rare to begin with, and coming here, she'd seen almost no real need to bring them). These, she figures, will help her figure out her next move.

She seats herself on the cement floor, using just a flashlight (oh if mother could see her now) to read by. The words flow like poetry through her brain, the intoxicating paragraphs of knowledge making her feel strong.

It's not magic, but it's the past of the dark arts, and for a few minutes, as wicked as this past is, she embraces it because she knows it. Understands it.

And then she turns the page.

The hours pass quickly now, mornings comes upon her seemingly mere minutes after she'd arrived. It's with great reluctance, then, that she stands (her body achy and tired). She knows that if Charming – or anyone else – were to stop by her house and find her absent, all the space she's been provided thanks to Henry's wish to keep her alive will be stripped away.

And there are those – many, in fact – who would happily see her dead.

Such as Doctor Whale.

Why can't she remember who he is, she wonders.

It's a fleeting curiosity though, and one she allows to exit her brain with very little thought or concern. More important right now is getting back to her house (how infuriating to be practically caged within her own house, however well deserved it be) before her absence is noted.

* * *

She makes it back to her mansion in almost record time, permits herself a breath of relief (and indignation, how pathetic it is to be sneaking around) before climbing into her shower.

The entirely too hot water feels ridiculously good slapping against her skin. She drops her head against the wall, inhaling the steam.

For a moment, she feels human.

The moment doesn't last long.

"Regina!" she hears.

She sighs, and then hisses forth a curse. Not a magical one, but rather one of this world, one with four letters. He calls out for her again, and then she can hear him coming – pounding his way - up the stairs like the boorish shepherd he actually is. Apparently, she's to be afforded no privacy or respect at all.

She briefly considers stepping out of the shower naked as the day she was born. That would certainly surprise him, might even shut him up for a few seconds.

No, she decides, the point of all this isn't to increase the animosity.

Even if it would for a fleeting moment amuse her.

She reaches for a purple silk bathrobe and pulls it on.

* * *

Charming is up the stairs within about ten seconds, calling her name out as he moves. A gun hangs at his hip, and a gold star on his belt. In Emma's absence, he's the sheriff now, a responsibility that he's not completely comfortable with if he's honest with himself. Not that it matters; these people need him right now.

They need him to lead and protect, and so he will.

"Regina!" he yells again. He stops at her closed bedroom door, hesitating ever-so slightly. What if she's sleeping or in undressed state? No matter what or who she is, doesn't she have the right to some dignity?

Before he can answer the question for himself, the door opens and Regina presents herself to him. She's wrapped in a silk bathrobe, her dark hair slicked back with water. "David," she drawls. "Can I help you or did you want to join me?"

"What?" he stammers. Then, his mind unfogging enough to allow in a stream of outrage, he demands again, "What?"

She chuckles. "Never mind, dear. Were you able to get the book from Gold?"

"No. He says he doesn't have it anymore."

"He's lying."

"Why would he do that?"

"He's Rumplestilskin, dear. Are you really so naïve as to have forgotten what a manipulative bastard he is?"

"No, I remember, but what reason does he have to lie. He has no quarrel with me or my family?"

"I don't think he's terribly fond of Ms. Swan, but otherwise, I would agree; he has certainly seemed willing to help you along. Whatever his reasons be."

"So why not now?

"I don't know. Most likely he doesn't want me to have my magic fully back. It's certainly not in his best interest for me to have it."

"Or any of ours."

She doesn't deny his words. After a moment, she says sharply, "Is this why you stormed my house? To tell me that you failed to get the book of magic?"

"No. I came to ask you where were you this morning."

"Excuse me?"

"You were seen by the cemetery about an hour ago."

"Was I?" she stares at him for a moment, but then, lacking the desire to actually argue with him (how weird, she's always enjoyed verbal back and forth debates, especially those with his daughter). "Am I not allowed to visit my father?"

"You murdered your father."

She flinches at that. "Indeed," she responds, her voice dropping in volume, and taking on a degree of sadness that he wouldn't have believed her capable of. "That doesn't, however, change my desire to pay respects to him."

"That's all it was?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at her. She continues to confuse him, this woman before him. She's not as she was before in Fairytale Land, but she doesn't seem who she's been here in Storybrooke, either.

A look passes over her face, and he thinks for a moment that she's about to lie to him (another sign of something being amiss – her ability to tell easy fibs has suddenly declined dramatically), but then she sighs. "No, I went for books."

"Magic books?"

"No. Rumple has the only ones of those I'm aware of. I didn't bring any with me, I hadn't seen the need. How incredibly short-sighted of me."

"Or probably fortunate for all of us," he corrects.

"Indeed."

"So what were the books?"

"If you'll permit me to dress, I'll show you."

"Five minutes."

Her eyes spark at that, and he's oddly pleased to see it. Deep down, he knows that if they're to have any chance to save Emma and Snow, he's going to need this woman to be strong. What she is right now is anything but.

"I'm not your prisoner, dear, no matter this house arrest. And whether you hate me and wish me dead or not, I will not be treated as a common dog in my own home, do I make myself quite clear?"

"Crystal."

She nods, taking his silence as acceptance of her words. "Good, then settle yourself in the study. I will be there shortly."

"You know you have no bargaining room, right? You understand that, right?"

She smiles, and he sees the sadness again. "I know my situation very well. I understand that I am alive thanks to the desires of a child with a heart far better than either yours or mine. And I know what you would do to protect him. If you believed me a threat to him, I expect you would ignore his wishes."

"I would."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she tells him and for a moment, he sees a streak of enormous despair push through her dark eyes.

He tilts his head. "I don't understand."

"You will."

"You have a plan, then?"

"I do. And if you allow me a few moments to dress and pretend that I am permitted any remaining dignity, I will fill you in on all of it."

"Fine. I'll be in your study."

"Very well." She smiles then, and it's a somewhat charming and devilish one. One that a long time ago might have even been wonderfully endearing and attractive on this woman. "Five minutes, then."

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Once again, thanks - I've been extremely gratified with the response to this piece. We're just starting to gear up, there's a lot more story to come. Getting back to Fairytale Land is just Act 1.

In response to the person who asked if this would be a Swan Queen romance story - no. I'm terrible (is there a worse word than that?) at writing romance for one, and for two, for this piece at least, I really want to explore the growing makes-absolutely-no-sense-to-anyone-sane friendship angle of Emma and Regina. And as you'll notice, I'm also indulging in the lost relationship between Snow and Regina and Emma and her parents.

* * *

Emma Swan is no stranger to uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. She's not lived what anyone sane would call an easy life, and some of her less than happy travels and misadventures have put her in situations that have been awkward, uneasy and at times, downright awful.

Now, sleeping on the hard earth, the sounds and smells of nature all around her, she admits to herself that this situation is none of those things.

True, she'd much rather be back in Storybrooke, sleeping in her own bed (how weird it is to realize that in such a short amount of time, she's come to consider the room within Mary Margaret's home as something of her own), but really, this isn't so terribly bad. Sure, her back is a bit sore and using a shirt as a pillow is hardly therapeutic to her neck, but there's a certain awesome beauty in sleeping beneath the stars of a world that she still doesn't entirely believe exists.

Fairytale Land. The Enchanted Forest.

Dear Lord.

"Emma?" she hears, the voice low and soft, almost a whisper of breath.

She turns slightly, her long legs shifting the thick wool blankets over them. The blankets are slightly scratchy, and they are hardly machine quality, but there's a considerable charm to them, especially when she considers that they were clearly made by hand. "You okay?" Emma inquires as she looks at her mother.

"I'm fine. I was…checking on you. I'm sorry, I know you don't like that, but…"

"No, it's okay," Emma nods thoughtfully. "I guess I'm a little…overwhelmed."

"Understandable. Being here is…if it's strange and unsettling to me, I can't even imagine how odd it is to you."

"It's not just that. I mean it's partly that. It's…well it's the Regina thing, too."

"It's bothering you?" Snow asks, turning to look at her daughter. Their voices are low, just barely more than a hushed whisper. For two reasons, really. First, they don't want anyone listening in on their private conversations, but secondly, and probably more importantly, they don't want any of these completely on-edge people thinking them enemies simply for their….sympathy?...for Regina.

She's nothing but the Evil Queen here, and neither woman harbors any doubt that had Regina come through the portal with them, these survivors would have already tried to execute her. Thanks to the numbers game here (at least a hundred to two), they probably would have succeeded as well.

A stunning realization which sombers both women much to their amazement and confusion. After all, hating Regina should be easy. Simple.

Obvious.

It's not.

"I guess it is bothering me a little," Emma admits. "I think maybe it was easier to think about her as just evil."

"It always is," Snow admits. Then, with a soft sigh, "I remember when I was a child, and how kind she was to me. How good and sweet and loving. Even after Daniel left her." She shakes her head. "Died. I didn't know that for so long."

"Daniel?"

"Her first love, maybe her true love. Her mom killed him when she tried to run away with him instead of marrying my father."

"Damn."

"Yeah. Look, Regina is responsible for the crimes that she's committed, but maybe…maybe things turn out far differently for her – for all of us - if not for Cora. And me." She frowns. "I was just a child, but I betrayed her and it cost her dearly. And that's on me. It doesn't justify what she did, but I think by the time she came completely undone, she didn't need real justification anymore. I think by then, she just needed her rage and hatred. And she had it."

"You're…sad?"

Snow smiles at that, but yes, it's a sad one. One full of regret and loss.

"It's weird, but…well Regina was the one who taught me about the idea of true love. When I met her, she actually believed in it, really and completely. And I believed in it because of her…maybe I still do. I mourn the loss of that woman, and maybe what could have been. What we could have been."

"And what about Cora?"

Snow's features harden noticeably, and when she speaks again, her tone is short and clipped, even angry. "There's nothing about that woman worth mourning. I'm sure there was a time when she wasn't like this. No one is born evil."

"You really believe that?" Emma asks.

"I do. But I also know that with her, I don't care. What she did to Regina, I think maybe there are sins that truly unforgivable, and that's one of them. You saw it; she's never showed even the slightest bit of remorse, even the tinniest amount of hesitation about torturing and twisting her child and –"

"Hey," Emma says, reaching out and taking Snow's hand. "Hey, I'm right here."

Snow chuckles, then reaches up and wipes a tear away. "That obvious am I?"

"Just a bit, but I guess…I guess I understand."

"I know all of this is difficult for you," Snow says, not mentioning to Emma just how much she likes the feel of her daughters' touch. Being so close to her child is a dream that she's certain her unknowing mind has been having for decades.

"It is," Emma admits. "But I'm thinking maybe it's difficult for you, too."

"Yeah. You're all grown up. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to…I'm not sure what I'm allowed to do or say. You don't need a mother."

"You'd be surprised," Emma chuckles. "Just…just be patient with me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or say, either."

"Patient, huh? I can do that," Snow assures her with a smile. It's infectious and Emma finds herself smiling in response.

After a moment of this, she says, "Good. Then how about we both try to close our eyes and get some sleep. I'm exhausted. Feels like I haven't slept in days."

"You haven't. Neither of us have. But yes, good idea. We're going to need all the rest we can get if we're going to find a way home."

"You think David is looking for us?"

"I know he is," Snow tells her, her smile growing even larger. "And I know that he'll find us if we don't find him first."

"But he doesn't have magic."

"He'll find a way, Emma. Trust me."

"I do, but…I don't think I'm okay with standing around waiting, you know?"

Snow laughs at that. "Oh me, neither." She squeezes Emma's hand. "But that's for tomorrow. Sleep, my baby girl."

"That's going to take some getting used to, too," Emma chuckles.

"As long as you eventually do," Snow replies, then lays back down, closing her eyes as she does so. It's a moment later when Emma realizes that her mother is still holding her hand, the touch light, but oddly reassuring.

Emma doesn't pull her hand away.

* * *

She takes almost ten minutes to join him in her study, five minutes of extra time that he suspects she utilized just to show him that she could. "Charming," Regina drawls as she enters, holding two glasses of orange juice in her hands.

"Alcohol in those?" he asks, standing up from her couch.

"Not this morning," she answers with a laugh. "But maybe later." She sighs when she sees his look. "Oh relax, I'm teasing. There's still time for that, isn't there?"

He blinks. "Uh…yes? Wait, no. There's no time. God only knows what trouble they could have gotten into over there. They could be hurt or…"

"Oh please, Charming, get over yourself. Neither one of those women need big brawny you to save their lives. Your dear Snow is one of the most resourceful women ever born. And Ms. Swan is a pain in the ass…"

"That's my daughter!"

"Do shut up and let me finish, would you, please?" she snaps, irritation peppering her tone. "Very good. Your daughter is a nuisance; she's not about to go away just because it might convenience anyone. Trust me, I know."

He cocks his head. "You almost sound…like you respect them."

"You read too much into my words, dear," she answers, pushing the glass into his hand, and then sipping from her own.

"Of course, I do," he counters, not believing her.

Her eyes snap up to him, something odd firing away in them. It almost looks like anger, but not really. Pride perhaps? Whatever it is, the emotion showing there is more haunted than furious, more instinctive than desired. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I've gone soft, Charming. Many others have been silly enough to do so, and they have all paid the price for such…naivety."

"What you call naivety, I call faith."

"Both are childish emotions. We have no time for them now."

"Is that what you told Henry? That his emotions were childish?"

The look in her eyes shifts now to something far sadder. But she fights back again, because it's all Regina Mills knows how to do. "How dare you."

"That's not an answer."

"Are you trying to hurt me even as you ask for my help?"

"No, I'm trying to make you understand that a lifetime lived without hope or faith or yes, even naivety isn't really worth much."

"I don't need lectures from you."

"It's not a lecture, Regina. Maybe you don't know this, but all the way to the day you made Snow eat that apple, she believed in you. She believed that there was good inside of you. She believed you could be saved."

"Clearly, she was as naïve then as you are now."

"If you say so."

"I do. Now shall we get on with this or would you like to continue your touchy feely heal the world sermon?"

He shakes his head, sadness in the motion. Had she the strength for outrage, she would summon it forth right now, so irritated is she by his presumptuous arrogance. And yet she doesn't because deep down, she knows he's right.

And deep down, the revelation of Snow's continued (and now lost) faith all the way up to the site of Daniel's grave cuts her far deeper than she cares to admit.

"By all means," he says, "Let's get on with it. What's your plan?"

She nods her head sharply, thankful to be redirected back to the course of action. "We need to open up a portal, this we know. The hat is ruined and the person able to recreate one and open another portal –"

"Jefferson?"

"The Mad Hatter, yes."

"Right. So you do actually remember him?"

She smiles grimly. "Today, I do."

"What's that mean?"

"It means wraiths always mark their prey and not just on their skin," she tells him cryptically. Then she waves her hand, dismissing that. "It hardly matters. Jefferson has been coming undone for quite awhile now. And yes, if you must know, partly through my own doing. Please, save the lecture." She glares at him when she says this, and wisely, he chooses to hold his tongue. "The point is, I doubt he could open a portal anymore anyway. He lacks the focus."

"But there's other magic that can do it."

"Yes and no."

"I don't understand."

"Of course not, but if you'd stop interrupting me, perhaps you will?"

"Fine," he grits out.

"The magic I was looking for in the book Rumple has is old and powerful, but I'm not sure even it would have been enough. What we need to do is find a thinned out wall in the fabric between the worlds, and rip it open."

He starts to open his mouth, but quickly stops.

"Go ahead," she drawls. "Ask your questions."

He nods. "First, how would we even know where this weakness might be?"

"That's actually the easy part. The thinning will be in one of two places, either where the wraith came through in the first place or where it disappeared. My guess is that City Hall is the better bet since there is where we created a specific portal back to the Enchanted Forest."

"Okay, that makes sense. How do we rip it back open?"

"With a powerful enough act to throw this world momentarily off-balance. That's where the magic comes in. And before you ask, I know I said that I don't have much magic of my own right now and we don't have Rumple's books, but there are other sources I can draw from."

"Such as?"

"All of the magical people in this town. Ruby, Archie, Mother Superior. Those who even though they cannot practice the arts themselves, have been touched by them. Ruby as Red spent much of her life beneath a magic cape to conceal her true identity. Archie as Jiminy was turned into a cricket by the Blue Fairy, and well, we know her story well enough. But there are others. Snow's little men. All of them have enough magic within them to assist me."

"Assist you how?" he asks suspiciously.

"In pulling the power and breaking through the wall. Haven't you been listening?"

"I've been listening well enough, I just don't like what I'm hearing. It sure sounds like you plan to leach off of the residual magic of everyone in this town so that you can get your own back. Do you actually have any intention of helping me?"

"If you continue acting like the idiotic David Nolan instead of the vaguely intelligent Prince Charming, I am going to have to start drinking this early in the morning," she snaps, anger sparking in her eyes again. "Dear boy, all of that magic put together wouldn't sustain me for longer than five minutes. And yes, if it were my intention to completely level and destroy this damned town, I would have enough power to do so in that space of time, but as my son is in this town, that's probably not my intent, would you agree?"

"All right, then what can that much power help you do?"

"It can help me overload enough to blow a hole in the wall."

"Overload? As in overload your body? As in kill you?"

"Please don't pretend you care, dear, it wears badly on you."

"I don't, but Henry would."

"Well then he'll be happy to know I don't plan on dying. It's certainly a possibility; that much flowing power can easily burn someone from the inside out, but chances are, my body is too…receptive to the magic to allow that to occur."

"It's been a very long time since you used magic regularly."

"You make me sound like a drug addict."

"Never thought of it that way, but I suppose that's apt. Point is, Regina, you don't know how your body will react to that much power flowing through you again. Tell me the truth for once, is there a best case scenario for you here?"

"I don't die," she answers drolly. "Now, if we do this, I'm sure you'll want to protect everyone you use in the ceremony. They'll need to understand that once I start drawing in the power, they need to evacuate or else they'll likely be hurt in the blowback used to open the portal. You'll, of course, need to be nearby if you want to jump inside of it like the simple heroic fool you are."

He ignores the barb, the venom behind it too weak to be terribly effective. It's almost like she's going through the motions of hatred.

Which considering the bizarre almost certain suicide mission that she's cooked up for herself, seems entirely likely.

"And you?" he asks.

"There are three options that I can think of. I'll either be killed by the power blowback, pulled into the portal with you or left behind. And if I'm left behind, I suspect that you won't have to worry about me when you return. Then again, if I go with you, the wraith will certainly find me and do what it was intended to do in the first place. Either way, you'll be getting exactly what you said you wanted back at the police station, my dear, so stop looking so shocked and distraught."

"I don't want Henry to be hurt."

"Neither, I do. And make no mistake, I don't want to leave him, either, but I know that if I don't do this, I've as good as lost him anyway. Ms. Swan means something to him that I never will. If I don't bring her – and Snow - back to him, he will never forgive me."

"He wouldn't expect this."

"Maybe not, but if this is what it takes for him to realize that I'm not a complete monster, that maybe there is something inside me worth…" she stops, shaking her head sharply. She won't have this conversation with him. She won't show him this kind of weakness. Even if she knows she already has.

"All right," Charming nods. "But you have to make me a promise."

"What more do you want from me?" she asks in exasperation. She blinks back a sudden stinging in her eyes, furious at her body's seeming insistent need to betray her with weak humanity on front of this man.

"Just the knowledge that this isn't a definite suicide mission. Promise me that you will do whatever you can to return to him. He wouldn't want to know his mother died to prove a point to him."

"It's more than a point," she insists.

"I know, but my own point stands. Promise me, Regina."

"Careful, Charming, you almost sound sad about what could happen to me. That's not how the storybooks are meant to go. You vanquish me, and then go celebrate with your beloved. Happily. Ever. After."

"Promise me," he says again, refusing to be drawn into the web of her self-hatred. It's a strange thing to be looking into the eyes of the enemy and realize just how truly human the enemy really is. This isn't a great and powerful villain that he's staring down right now; it's a just a woman. A sad and broken woman.

"Fine. I promise. For Henry."

"Good enough. Is there a preferred time to do this thing of yours?"

"Night. Always when mystical energy is at its zenith. Preferably midnight."

"Then we'll do it tonight. Midnight. City Hall."

"I'll be there."

He stands then, nods quickly, then leaves the room. He tosses one last look back at her, noticing that she hasn't moved from her spot in the study, and then exits back through the front door of the house.

He's uncertain and confused, not at all sure that this is the right plan. She could easily be playing him for the fool, using his emotions against him.

But for reasons he can't understands, he knows – he trusts – that she isn't.

There's something about her, something that says that she's come to the end of her ability to twist and turn. Something that says that maybe to her, this feels like the only play she has to prove to her son that she's worth…what was the word she was clearly about to use? Oh, yes, loving.

She's trying to prove to Henry that she's worth loving.

And if that means dying, well then so be it.

He wonders what that kind of loneliness must feel like. He's certainly been alone before – pretty much no one in the world liked David Nolan most of the time – but what he sees in her eyes, it shows a kind of almost soul-crushing solitude.

And suddenly, he understands just why Snow had struggled – against all common sense - to ever really hate Regina. Why she had believed all the way up until the apple incident that the Evil Queen could be saved and redeemed.

He wonders if maybe Snow was right, just a bit off in her timing.

He wonders if after all she's done, Regina even has a right to redemption.

He knows what Snow would say.

He thinks maybe – just maybe – it's worth taking a risk on.

That doesn't mean that he won't come prepared to fight back if Regina really is playing him for the fool.

It just means that come midnight to night, he's going to hope that deep down in Regina, there really is a person worth loving.

Snow believed it for so long.

Henry still believes it.

He hopes they're right.

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Again, thank you, thank you. I appreciate all of your comments and suggestions. I write from the seat of my pants so sometimes some of your ideas give me perspectives and paths to take.

Once again, this story runs parallel to the season (and incorporates slightly from promos and spoilers) but it is AU. Again, thanks.

* * *

It's the wonderfully fresh smells of the morning, the sound of birds chirping as they hunt for breakfast, and the smoke rising from the fire that combine to bring Emma Swan to her senses. It's early, she realizes, judging by how low the sun still is in the sky. It seems that around here, people rise with the first light.

Dragging the thick wool blankets with her, Emma rolls to her side, immediately noticing that her mother is no longer lying next to her. A quick (mildly panicked) glance about, and Emma's eyes fall with relief upon Snow's form. She's standing next to the flickering fire, a large smile lighting her face.

She's at home here, Emma realizes. This is her natural element.

This is where she's strong.

The people surrounding Snow are completely unfamiliar to Emma. She tilts her head a bit, looking at them intently, wondering if maybe she should recognize them. After all, she's certain that she's read books about so very many of them.

In the books and movies, though, they seldom look like this. Tired, too thin and in desperate need of a long hot shower. Or even better, a lovely warm bubble bath.

She lifts herself up slowly, feeling the stiffening effects of having slept on the cold hard earth. She's turns slowly; stretching out her bones and muscles. Something pops and she grimaces even though the pain she feels is quite mild. It's more about the sound and the realization that even at only twenty-eight, she feels old.

Finally, once she's assured herself that she's not about to stumble forward on weak jelly knees and therefore make an ass of herself, she pulls her red jacket back on, stuffs her hands into her pockets and moves towards the fire.

"Morning," she mumbles as she steps up next to Snow. She notices that her mother is wearing a thick woolen shirt. It's not quite a sweatshirt (those don't exist here) but it serves the same warming purpose. She pulls her hands from her pockets, extends her palms forward, and with a small just barely audible sigh of pleasure lets the flickering orange flames warm them.

"Good morning," Snow beams at her. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a…literal rock, actually."

"I can imagine. We've had a rough couple of days," Snow nods. "Sometimes, it doesn't matter where you lay your head down, just that you do."

"True enough. What's in the pot?"

"Porridge," Mulan says as she approaches, the woman who had been with her the day before at her side. Emma has notice that this woman has rather intently kept her distance from she and Snow, the look in her eyes rather angry. As they arrive, the others that had been talking with Snow take their leave, quickly slipping away as if sensing an impending uncomfortable conversation.

"Ah," Emma nods, glancing at the pot.

"I'm sure it's not to your standards," Mulan snipes.

Emma snaps around. "Listen, lady, I know you have it in your mind that I'm some kind of great evil…"

"You're not a great evil," Mulan corrects quietly. "I've faced and defeated great evils, that woman in the pit is great evil, her daughter is great evil. You are just a pampered princess."

"Emma," Snow cautions, knowing full well how Emma is about to react. Mulan's statements are unfair, but Snow chooses to hold back engaging with her and Aurora simply because she can see no good that can come of it.

She's wasting her breath on Emma, however. Her daughter has been through too much in her twenty-eight years; she's not about to let anyone dismiss her.

"You know nothing about me, but if you did, you would know that absolutely nothing about my life has been pampered so maybe for five seconds, you drop the attitude. We did nothing to you," Emma all but growls at Mulan.

"You brought that thing here," the woman at Mulan's side snaps, cold hatred sparking dangerously in her eyes. "And that thing killed Phillip."

Snow almost corrects her, almost tells her that Phillip isn't actually dead, but she stops herself in time. She's obviously never been touched by a wraith before, but she does somewhat remember the time spent under the sleeping curse of the apple that Regina had forced her to bite into.

She remembers the dreams, and the sense of heavy loss and sadness that had seemed to seep through her like poisonous gas. Death, she'd remembered thinking as her mind had turned to yet another round of tragic regrets, spinning them into the stuff nightmares are made of, would have been preferable.

Wherever Phillip's soul is now, he's probably thinking the same thing.

"We didn't mean to," Emma replies. "We didn't know this world still existed."

"She speaks the truth," Snow insists. "We believed it destroyed with the curse."

"That doesn't change what you did," Aurora states coldly. Emma watches as Mulan slides herself closer to the formerly dozing princess, the posture protective. There's an odd look on the warrior woman's face, too.

Some kind of deep sadness.

Like maybe this Prince Phillip had meant something to her as well.

Now that's not how the Disney cartoon went. For once, though, Emma holds her tongue. She rather suspects that they wouldn't at all appreciate her asking where Shang is. Assuming Shang even exists in this world.

Who knows how true the stories that she grew up on really are. After all, in those tales from her youth, evil was always simply and eternally completely evil and good was always just that – plain vanilla white as the driven snow good.

Clearly, it's not that simple at all in reality.

"We know," Snow says softly. "And we're sorry. This wasn't what we wanted, Aurora. I know you can't see that right now, but I hope eventually you will."

"Aurora?" Emma asks in disbelief. The question is utterly inappropriate considering the other conversation occurring, but the wince-worthy words are out of her mouth before she can pull them back. "Wait? As in Sleeping Beauty?"

"We just call her Aurora here," Snow whispers with an awkward smile.

"But you two do know each other? Snow White knows Sleeping Beauty?"

"No. We know of each other," Aurora answers stiffly. "Our paths never crossed."

"But someone here recognized you," she inquires of Snow. "Told them who you were so that they would let us out of the pit, right?"

"Yes, but I don't think they're someone you've ever heard of. The Enchanted Forest was quite large, and beyond that, there were many other lands. You know of the legends that have been carried over to your world in stories by the portal jumpers, but most people here live a fairly anonymous life. And like it that way."

"Got it." She shakes her head, realizing that the shock of all of this is still settling heavy on her. She's no more adapted to it today than she was yesterday.

"There's a lot to learn," Snow says gently. "You don't have to learn it all today."

"I don't remember you being this wise."

"Lots to learn about me, too," Snow smiles. Then, to Mulan and Aurora, who have been watching the conversation between Emma and Snow with varying degrees of curiosity and interest, she says in a strong unwavering voice, "Our goal is not to be a burden – or an unpleasant reminder - to either of you. What we want is to find a way back to where we came from."

"The place where you were cursed?" Aurora asks, furrowing her brow in confusion. "Why would you want that?"

"Our family and friends are there. My husband. Her son."

"You're a grandmother?" Aurora queries, disbelief peppering her tone.

"This curse had caused time to work strangely," Snow admits. "All of you were frozen for almost three decades. Well, you were asleep, they were frozen."

Aurora fixes Snow with what she hopes is a withering look. It's not, though, and Emma quickly realizes that around here, few can really compete with her mother. Snow isn't your typical fairytale princess. She doesn't come with an accessory kit of a crown, a pink hairbrush and French manicured nails. This is a woman who knows how to use a sword and isn't afraid to. She's a fighter. She's a survivor.

She's more Mulan than Aurora.

And yet there's clearly a connection between Mulan and Aurora as opposed to one between Snow and Mulan.

It has to be about Phillip.

They both clearly care for him. Maybe both of them are in love with him.

Yeah, again, definitely not the story she'd grown up on.

"How do you plan to open a portal back to this cursed world of yours?" Mulan asks. Her voice is fairly neutral, but she can't hide her clear anxiety over this.

"We're not sure, " Snow admits. "But I suspect the answers that we require can be found back in the Enchanted Forest. Back at my castle if it still stands."

"It does," Mulan nods. "But not like you remember it. The Dark Lords have taken it over. They live there now."

"The Dark Lords?" Emma asks. She looks at Snow in disbelief, her eyes almost begging for someone to laugh and tell her they're just kidding around. When they don't, she pushes on with, "You know these guys?"

"No, I don't. What kind of creature?" Snow asks Mulan. It's clear to her that Aurora is just as much in the dark about all of this as she and Emma are.

"Humans. Ones who practice magic. When time started moving again a few months ago, there were those who realized that without the lords and ladies of before, and without Queen Regina around, they could rule this land with might and magic without fear of reprisal. They butchered about a third of our survivors within the first three weeks. They are why we are gathered here. They are why this safe haven must exist. If they could find us, they would destroy us all."

"Regina kept these Dark Lords in check before the curse?" Emma queries.

"They didn't call themselves the Dark Lords then, but yes, she did. Perhaps the only good she did, though it was unintentionally so. They were afraid of her," Aurora states. "Even I, where I was kingdoms away, knew that. There were only two who could call themselves equal to her – Maleficent and Rumplestilskin."

"Maleficent, huh? I put a sword in her," Emma says with a smug smile.

"You?" Aurora laughs. "You must be joking."

"Yeah, me. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"It's just…sorry, it just is."

Emma rolls her eyes, already sick of this conversation – and these women. She's spent a good amount of her life being looked down on by just about everyone. Seems like just about anyone – if they look hard enough – can find a deficiency in her. There's always something she's doing that doesn't measure up.

Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not sophisticated enough.

But she likes to think that no matter what those (and these) people think, she's always been tough enough. She'd had to be in order to survive. To hell with anyone who thinks otherwise – especially these two who don't know her at all.

Seeming to sense the dark cloud settling over her daughter, Snow puts a hand on her forearm, then addresses Mulan and Aurora, "So these Dark Lords, would they have the magic we need to reopen a portal back to where we came from?"

"There's no way to know for certain," Mulan answers with a deepening frown. "But going up against them to find out would be suicide. You don't understand the horrors that they have wrought upon us. Murder is just the beginning of things. Were they to realize that you of all people were within their sights, they would be truly merciless. And your death would be demoralizing to all of us."

"I understand, and believe me, that is the very last thing we want. I don't plan to die, I promise you that," Snow says softly. "But just as both of you love Phillip, and would quite clearly do whatever you could to bring him back, me and my daugher need to do whatever we must to return to our family."

"Very well," Mulan nods. "Then I'm going with you."

"No!" Aurora says immediately. "No, you can't."

"I can't allow her to be killed," Mulan tells the princess.

"As I said, I have no intention of dying," Snow reminds her.

"And I have no intention of allowing anyone to hurt her," Emma shoves in, unable to hide the irritation that is now completely bubbling over. This warrior woman apparently believes that she is the only one tough enough or strong enough to protect anyone. Emma admits to herself that this bizarre claim wounds her already fragile egoego, but it's more than that; it's also pure bullshit.

She's not letting anyone get to Snow.

Not after finally finding her.

"I will still be accompanying you," Mulan says simply, almost completely brushing Emma off. "Now, it's a very long journey back to the forest. Three days worth at least. It'll be another two days or so to your castle. We may have to go even slower than that to avoid detection. We'll want to carry enough supplies to –"

"Wait," Aurora says. "Just wait. You need magic to open a portal. If you're going to go after the Dark Lords and try to force them to help you, why not force the woman in the pit to do that. She's one of them isn't she?"

"If she had gone with them, she would have been," Mulan agrees. "But she chose to stay here. She tried to manipulate us. She failed." She makes it sound so easy, but even Emma knows based on the anxiety that Mulan displays around Cora that things are far more complicated than that. These people are truly afraid of Regina's mother, terrified what could occur if she were to get free.

"But she is here," Aurora insists. "You can use her."

"Cora is very dangerous," Snow tells her with a shake of her head. "Probably far more dangerous than most of the Dark Lords that you so desperately fear."

"But she probably wants out of that pit enough to help us," Emma suggests.

"Most likely, but no, I don't…this is a bad idea. One we shouldn't even contemplate," Snow answers, desperation in her tone. "I know that woman, Emma. She's cruel and heartless and she won't go into this without a plan meant to destroy all of us. If we give her the opportunity, she will make us pay for it."

"Then we don't give her the opportunity."

"It's not that easy. "

"All right, I believe you, but… our options are basically a five-day hike to deal with several Dark Lords who want you dead or a hundred meters to deal with one witch who might have an ulterior agenda?" Emma queries.

"Not might, Emma, definitely. If she agrees to help us, then she's up to something. That's a certainty."

"I think this is a risk we have to take."

"You don't know her."

"You told me last night, when you told me the story of her and Regina, that the last time you saw her was when you were ten years old. Maybe she's changed."

"Not everyone changes," Snow insists. "Not everyone is capable of it." She reaches out and places a hand on either side of Emma's face. "You're someone who knows the dark side of people better than most. You must be getting some kind of feeling off of her. You must be able to read how evil she is."

"I am, and I can," Emma admits. "But weighing everything…if this were any other woman, this would be an acceptable risk, wouldn't it?"

"This isn't any other woman. This is the woman who destroyed her daughters' life, and because of that, destroyed mine. She is pure absolute evil."

Emma turns to face Mulan. "What kind of dangers will we face on the way back to the castle?" She frowns a bit when she says this, not quite believing the words coming out of her own mouth. This whole thing is so absurdly surreal.

And then Mulan almost effortlessly ups the surreal meter by shrugging and saying in an almost nonchalant way, "Ogres, demons, trolls and wolves, for starters. There are other creatures now as well. Hybrids and half-breeds."

Emma sighs. "I know most of those things from books, but I have no real idea what any of them are. I'm guessing though that most of them would have no issue killing any of us if we happened to come across them. Am I right?"

"You're right," Mulan confirms. "And the more royal the blood, the more brutal the killing. Royal blood is considered a delicacy to most of the beasts of the land."

"That's…disgusting and disturbing and…" she turns to Snow. "Look, this is your world, not mine, which means this is your call."

"I don't trust that woman."

"And I trust your gut, and if you think going to the castle is our best chance – our best shot – of getting home, then that's what we do. I'm with you every step of the way no matter the choice."

Snow takes a breath. "No, Mulan is right, it would be suicide. Fine, we make Cora help us." She shakes her head. "But she will try something."

"If she does," Mulan tells her. "We'll kill her where she stands."

Snow smiles sadly at that. "If only it were so easy." She looks around then. "Do you have a crossbow?"

"We do."

"I'll need someone to have it trained on her when I go into the pit to talk to her. In case she tries anything," Snow says, turning around to look at the wooden door that opens to the pit. She's clearly apprehensive, more than a little nervous.

"I can do that," Emma says.

"Have you ever used a crossbow before?" Aurora questions, once again haughty.

"Have you?" Emma fires back.

"This isn't helping," Snow says. "Emma, have you?"

"No, but they have my gun. I can use that just as effectively as a crossbow, and probably with better aim."

"Fine. Will you return her gun to her?" Snow asks Mulan.

"Of course, your Highness."

"Snow, and thank you." She takes a breath. "I suppose it's time, then."

"I'm right behind you," Emma assures her.

Snow reaches over and takes her hand. "I know you are. But do me a favor, and stay there. Behind me, I mean. I don't want her focusing on you."

"But…"

"Please, Emma. Please, don't fight me on this."

"Okay."

Snow smiles with obvious relief. "Let's go."

* * *

They approach the pit about ten minutes later, after Emma's gun has been returned to her, and a nice sharpened knife has been slipped into Snow's belt.

The door is pulled open, and the two women enter, Snow stepping in front of her daughter. Emma pulls her gun out, but keeps it low. At least at first. Behind her, Mulan lurks, trying to stay back, but close enough to attack if needed.

"Cora," Snow calls out, trying to steel her nerves, but not completely succeeding in hiding them. Her apprehension is obvious, her worries crystal clear.

Magic has a price. Well so does evil. Problem is, sometimes it's not the evil ones who pay the price for their heinous actions.

"I'm here, dear," the older woman says, stepping forward and into the streams of now bright sunlight that are beaming down into the pit.

"I need something from you," Snow says, meeting Cora's dark eyes with her own lighter colored ones. She lifts her chin up, trying to appear regal and in charge. Trying to act like the queen she is in this realm.

"Oh. How so?" Cora queries, sounding annoyingly amused.

"We need your magic to open a portal."

"What makes you think I can do that?"

"You're powerful. Probably the most powerful witch left in this world."

"Mm, indeed. Did my dear daughter ever tell you how I just suddenly disappeared? Or did she only tells you the sins she believes I committed."

"Sins you did commit."

"I'll take that as a no. She sent me through a portal, sweet Snow. A portal to Wonderland. I tried to return, leveraged every bit of magic I had, but things worked quite different there. Magic is unusual in that terrible little world."

"But you made it back here somehow."

"I caught a ride with a portal jumper that my daughter left behind. Turns out in my absence, she became very good at turning every ally into an enemy."

"We're not here to talk about Regina."

"On the contrary, Snow, if you want my help, we are."

She feels more than sees Emma take a step forward. For whatever reason, Emma is protective of Regina. The former queen hardly deserves the white knight routine she gets from Emma, but gets it she does anyway.

"What do you want?" Snow growls.

"Simply information, my dear. I just want to know how my beloved daughter is."

"I don't know. She's there, we're here."

Cora smiles widely, the expression nearly grotesque on this woman. "You can choose to play games with me or you can play with me. You know what I want, and that's my price to assist you. Information on my daughter."

"We can put a knife to your throat," Snow tells her, touching the blade at her side. It's especially sharp, would likely cut through skin and muscle with ease.

It doesn't scare Cora a bit.

Cora laughs, the sound echoing in the cave. "I'm not afraid to die. Kill me if that's what you're going to do, but child, don't threaten. Very few survive it."

"What do you want to know about her?" Emma asks, stepping forward.

Snow almost growls in response, sliding herself in front of Emma. Just for once, she wishes her stubborn daughter would just listen and obey.

It's not who she is, though.

And that just might be her downfall.

"Is she happy?"

"Why do you care?" Snow snaps. "You did everything in your power to ensure she never would be."

"Is that what she told you? Well then it's a lie. I did everything in my power to give that ungrateful brat of mine everything she could ever want. Every creature comfort, every material need, every ounce of power that she could ever crave."

"But no love."

"How trite. Love is for children. Neither she nor I were children anymore. It was time for her to grow up, and I was helping her do that."

"By killing Daniel? You turned her into a monster."

"She was weak. I'm guessing she still is."

"You can't be for real," Emma says.

Cora's eyes flicker up to her, a cruel curiosity showing. "Who are you?"

"She's no one of consequence to you," Snow snaps back. Then, to her daughter, "Emma, step back. Now."

Cora's smile widens. "How very interesting. All right then, Snow, I'll make you a deal. You can either tell me what I want to know about Regina or you can tell me about this woman who you're so eager to protect."

"You want to talk Regina, fine, let's do that," Snow says immediately. She rather hates herself for giving in so easily, but then, Regina is her sworn enemy and Emma is her daughter. The choice of whom to protect is simple, easy even.

At least it's supposed to be.

"Very good. Now, is she happy?"

"No. Her curse is broken, and she's lost everything."

"She had something to lose?"

It's in this moment that Snow realizes that she's inadvertently backed herself into a corner she doesn't want to be. Even she knows that above all else, there is one thing that Regina cares about. One person whom she loves.

Henry.

And hell will freeze before Snow offers him up.

"Power," Snow lies. "She had power over all of us, and she's lost that."

Cora nods at this, and for a moment, Snow thinks that maybe this conversation is over, but then the older woman pushes on. "And love? Does she love anyone?"

"No."

"You're lying, Snow, dear. You've always been terrible at it."

"Go to hell."

She laughs. "The places I've been make hell look like a vacation."

"Are we done with this…whatever it is?" Snow asks.

"Quite. You've answered all my questions to my satisfaction. I will help you."

Snow allows a breath of relief, though deep down, she has a very bad feeling about the information that she has given Cora. Deep down, she wonders if she has once again betrayed Regina and in doing so, endangered her own grandson.

"You can open a portal?"

"In this world, yes. The magics here are quite strong now due to how few people there are left. The power is no longer being split by so many. If you bring me back to where you came through, I can reopen the portal."

"How?"

"The wall between worlds is likely quite thin now. I can break it back open."

"And you'll do that? For the answers we just gave you? Knowing that the people here will put you back into the pit when you're done?"

"Yes," she says with a large smile.

"Now, you're the one lying."

"Perhaps, but I'm guessing I'm a risk that you're going to have to take."

"If you try anything, I will kill you."

"And I'm sure your friend with the pistol will as well."

"Three or four times," Emma says with a growl.

"You might do to teach the girl some manners, Snow. She's quite –"

"Don't talk about her. Don't even look at her. Look only at me."

"As you wish. Well, if we're going to do this, it'll need to happen at midnight. That's the strongest hour for magic, it will give us our best chance of success."

"Then you should rest," Snow says, and with that, she reaches back and punches Cora as hard as she can manage, her balled fist cracking loudly against the vile woman's' cheekbone. Cora drops like a rock, dead unconscious.

"Oh my God, Mary Margaret!" Emma exclaims.

"That was fun actually," Snow admits, shaking her hand a bit. "And kind of painful." Then, looking back at Mulan. "It made more sense to travel with her unconscious. It's inconvenient to us, but safer."

"Agreed," Mulan nods, something oddly like respect in her eyes. "We can tie her to the back of the horse."

"Fitting," Emma shrugs.

"Quite," Snow says, then turns and leaves the pit. Emma follows after her.

"Hey. Hey!"

"What?"

Emma reaches for her arm. "What's wrong?"

"I…I screwed up."

"What? What do you mean?"

"The reason Regina hates me is because I told Cora about her beloved, and Cora murdered him. She knows about Henry, Emma, she knows."

"Not specifically, she doesn't."

"But she knows there's someone. She doesn't know that he's Regina's son – your son – but she knows that Regina loves someone, and trust me when I tell that she will do anything and everything in her power to manipulate things so that she can to take that person – Henry - away from her."

"She'll have to go through me. No one is touching Henry."

"I failed her again. I failed you."

"No. No, look, look at me, okay? It's not a normal or sane human response to want the destroy the person your daughter loves. That's not…it doesn't make sense, and you're not responsible for what she does."

"Somehow, I don't think Regina will see it that way."

"Let's worry about getting back to Regina and Henry first, okay?"

Snow nods slowly, but it's clear that the pain of her perceived failure weighs heavily on her. She's terrified, and it shows.

"And when we do," Emma continues, "We'll make sure he's safe. We'll make sure they're both safe. That woman in there isn't hurting anyone every again."

"I believe you."

"Good. By the way, nice right hook."

"Thanks."

"I'd have pistol whipped her."

"Not a bad idea." Snow puts an arm around her, and pulls Emma close. "Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, we're back in Storybrooke." She laughs then.

"What?"

"That's home," Snow tells her. "I'm leaving where I grew up to go back to a place I was forced against my will to go, and that's home now."

"Life is funny sometimes," Emma shrugs.

"Yes, it is," Snow agrees. She hugs Emma again, then steps away and heads towards where Mulan is now setting up horses for the trip.

Emma watches her go, a frown sliding across her face after a few moments. She glances back towards the pit. Back towards Cora.

And wonders if maybe facing the Enchanted Forest and the Dark Ones might not have been a better idea after all.

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Apologies for the slight delay. This was a bit more of a complex chapter, the one where the stories finally converged into.

Again, thanks for the kind words. I hope that you continue to enjoy.

* * *

Alcohol moves quickly through her, it always has. It's one of the reasons she likes cider. It's heavy and tends to settle down on you and keep you in that lovely inebriated state long enough to actually help you forget that which you're attempting to forget. It lets you find momentary – if not real – peace.

Today, though, she can't allow for such…idealism.

Today, she knows that if her crazy plan is going to have any chance of succeeding (and it must succeed or else she fears that she'll lose her chance to prove to Henry that she's not completely the monster he thinks she is), well then she'll need to have a clear and unpolluted by alcohol mind for when the power surge begins. She has no real idea what all of that energy flowing through her will feel like, but she assumes that it will be overwhelming.

Maybe even fatally so.

It's a risk that she's going to have to take (a somewhat wondrous realization for this woman who has spent so very long protecting herself and putting herself and her rage ahead of everyone and everything else).

She reaches for a glass of deep blood red wine. Because even though she can't permit herself cider, she finds that she desperately needs the much more mild liquor of the cabernet to settle her nerves. It's only eleven in the morning (she thinks for a moment just how sad it is that she's drinking alone in the captive solitude of her own house before the noon hour has even struck), and there will be plenty of time for her to sober up, she reasons.

Plenty of time to consider what will happen come midnight.

For now, she hopes it will allow her a few hours of sleep. Just as she had hoped a couple days ago. That hadn't worked out; the nightmares had hit her hard.

They do this time as well.

* * *

She's in a familiar room, but it takes her a long while to recognize it as her childhood bedroom back at the castle. It's nothing like Henry's (no matter what he thinks of her, she always tried to give him happiness around him – his room could never be considered sterile, she'd always allowed him to let his personality dictate his surroundings). This room that she's in now is cold and impersonal, just a few small unique touches to it that she can really and honestly call her own.

She's sitting on the bed, the thick blankets a reminder of the coldness of castle walls. A draft passes by her, and she feels the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

And then she realizes that she's not alone.

She looks up and sees her mother standing there, an amused smile playing across her thin lips. "Hello, daughter," she says, her voice full of bitter honey. She looks happy, and that can only ever mean terrible things for Regina.

"Mother," she whispers.

"I have a present for you, my dear girl."

And then she stands aside to allow her gift to enter the room.

The wraith.

Her mother has brought the wraith back.

Perhaps Cora sees the horrified look on Regina's face, the sheer panic and utter fear. She laughs then, the sound sharp and delighted. "Oh relax, Regina, this isn't for you. It already tasted, you daughter. It found no soul to take."

"I…I have a soul."

"No, you don't. I took that from you a long time ago."

"No."

"Oh, yes. That and your pitifully pathetic heart."

Regina shakes her head, blinking back tears.

"Stop that. Don't mewl, child."

"Mother…"

Cora ignores the terrified plea she hears in her daughters' voice (or perhaps she feeds on it). Instead, stepping closer to Regina, she says, "Now, perhaps you'd like to know who the wraith is for then." She leans forward, smiling widely enough to show predatory white teeth. "Henry. The wraith is here for his soul."

"It can't have him. I won't allow it."

"As if you could stop anything. As if you could protect him. You can't. You couldn't protect Daniel from me, and you can't protect Henry. He's mine."

Regina screams in response. It's this scream that tears her from her dreams.

* * *

After her heartbeat has calmed, and her breathing regulated, she finally rises from her bed, showers, dresses in her best slacks and a blue silk shirt (she'll be damned if she goes to her death - if that's what this turns out to be - looking ordinary) and descends the steps of the staircase she's always loved.

She exits the house and walks down a small path to where the apple tree is. It looks better now thanks to a few of the small magic tricks she still has at her disposal, but for some reason, she's suddenly acutely aware of how not real its beauty is. It's manufactured and not grown.

And that bothers her.

Back in the land that was, she'd taken ridiculous care of this tree, planted and nurtured it. It had been the one true sign – though Regina had certainly not realized it at the time – that there was yet some humanity within her.

Now, staring up at the red fruit above her, she wonders if that's still true.

She seats herself on the bench, puts her head in her hands, and allows herself to do something she would never let anyone see: she cries.

* * *

When Cora comes to her senses (albeit with an annoying headache and a sore jaw), she's in the back of a cart, her hands tied behind her. The others with her – Snow, the woman called Emma and the humorless warrior Mulan – are unaware of her consciousness and she's in no great hurry to change that.

Sure, she's none too thrilled to be bound like a common thief, but for now, she ignores the indignation and focuses on the bigger plan.

Getting to her daughter and making her pay for what she'd done.

She lifts her hands slightly, and adjusts herself. If she wanted to, she could burn these ropes away easily. She could even strike all three of those in front of her down with a whirl of her hand and the flick of a fireball.

But that won't help her find where the thin wall to the other world is.

For now, she needs these otherwise worthless people.

Ironic she thinks, that Snow will once again be used to remind Regina of her place. This time, the lesson will have to be…more intense. More memorable.

Yes, this time, Regina will need to learn a lesson that she will never forget.

Cora closes her eyes then, feeling the unevenness of the dirt covered path beneath her. Just little speed bumps on the way to her goals.

All will be as should be soon.

Very soon.

* * *

"I need to walk," Emma says. She's been riding shotgun on the wagon for the last hour, and her legs are feeling cramped and tight. Originally, the plan had been for all of them to horses and to tie Cora to the back of one, but they'd quickly realized that such an arrangement – while vaguely amusing – would likely end quite badly should the woman come around during the journey.

So instead, they'd taken a horse-drawn cart. Since leaving camp, the trio of she Snow and Mulan have traded off.

Well, somewhat.

The truth is, the two other women have both gone out of their way to push her into driving the cart (which has always seemed like a bad plan to her, but thankfully these horses have needed very little guidance) while they walk. It's a bit insulting to be considered the weak link in the party.

Insulting, but likely accurate.

The one thing Emma is very quickly realizing is that around here, she's a complete rookie. Everything is strange and absurd here. Nothing makes a lick of sense. It's all stories and myths, things that shouldn't exist but clearly do.

Her mind struggles to come to grips with it all. Struggles and refuses.

And yet here she is, driving a cart carrying a hideously evil woman in it.

"No," Snow says. "Keep driving. You're doing a great job."

"Thanks," Emma nods. "But my legs are cramping up. I need to stretch them."

Mulan and Snow exchange a look, and Emma is struck for a moment by a desire to laugh. The expressions the two women are sending each other are the kind that very politely are stating that the other women should take a seat.

"Your Highness," Mulan says. "I insist."

"And I appreciate that," Snow replies. "But I'd like to have some time to talk to my daughter about what's going to happen when we reach the portal site."

It's a well thought out reason, and Emma can't help but be impressed. Especially when she sees Mulan scowl before replying sharply, "As you wish."

"Thank you, and again, Mulan, please, call me Snow."

Mulan simply nods. She takes a step towards the cart. As she does, Emma pulls up on the reins, bringing the horses to a halt. Once they've stopped completely, she steps down, hopping the last bit of the way. Mulan takes her place, glances back once at the prisoner (who seems to still be unconscious) and then gets the horses moving again with a loud "ha" and a wriggle of the reins.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Emma asks as she steps up next to Snow.

"What I told her; what we can expect once we get to the clearing," Snow answers after they've gotten a few feet away from the cart.

"Magic?"

"Yes. And an extreme amount and very dangerous amount of it. No matter what Cora says; she has no intention of going back to that pit."

"So what is her plan?"

"No way to know for sure, but I'd guess it has something to do with Regina."

"Revenge?"

"Seems likely. Cora's isn't the type to take pride in Regina standing up to her."

"Didn't really work out much better for Regina having done so," Emma notes.

"No. My point is; we need to be on our guard. She will try something, and if her goal is to go through the portal she opens to get to Regina, then she will quite happily kill us if that she's what she needs to get it done." Then, with a frown, she adds, "Actually, she's likely to try to kill us anyway."

"And I thought Regina was the sociopath," Emma says with a sigh.

"You have no idea."

"Honestly hoping not to ever."

"My hope, too, honey. Just….we just need to be on our guard."

"Don't worry. I may have no clue what I'm doing in this place, but I have a good idea how to handle loons like her."

"I'm sorry for that," Snow says softly. "That wasn't…that wasn't supposed to be your life. You were supposed to have a life full of happiness and balls and…"

"Hey, hey," Emma interrupts, reaching out and taking Snow's hand. It stops them where they stand, which allows Mulan and the cart to catch up immediately. As if sensing that this is a delicate moment, the warrior keeps the horses moving, sliding right past the two women. "What's done is done."

"But it wasn't supposed to be done."

"It also wasn't your fault. I get that."

"Do you?"

"Most of the time," Emma admits with a nervous smile. "I admit, I still have moments when I wonder what it would have been like to grow up here and with you, but thing is, that wasn't a possibility was it? My two options were have the life I had or to be a baby forever with you in Storybrooke."

"I think so."

"And if I had, there'd be no Henry. And without Henry, the curse never ends."

"True."

They start walking again, coming up so that they're just a few feet behind the back of the cart. "It's funny," Emma says. "I wasn't the key, he was. To all of it."

"He brought you to Storybrooke."

"It was more than that, though. Thing is, he could have brought me all day long, but without what he did to Regina, what he made her feel, the curse never gets broken. If she doesn't love him so much that she tries to get rid of me, I never really believe him and I leave town. If she doesn't love him so much that she sacrifices the curse to save him, the curse never breaks."

"Even evil can love."

"It's more than that," Emma insists.

"You defend her." It's a statement, not a question.

"I don't know if you'd call it that. Trust me, most days I'd be happy to throw her in a cell and forget about her. Other days I just think she's the saddest person that I've ever met, but what I know is this, no matter what Henry thinks, he does love her. Her in danger was the one thing that snapped him out of his everything is about the book fantasy."

"It wasn't a fantasy," Snow reminds her.

"To a degree it was. I mean everything in it was real, but the simplicity of it was the fantasy. He knew the stories in there, but nothing beyond that. He thinks he has to hate her because she's the Evil Queen, but I don't think he really knew what that means besides that she's bad and you and I are good."

"Black hats and white hats. So very simple."

"Exactly. When Whale went after her with the crowd, she became mom again."

"I promise you," Snow assures her. "We won't let Cora get to her."

"I didn't say a word," Emma chuckles.

"But you were thinking it," Snow says with a small knowing smile. "Don't worry; so was I. Whatever is between Regina and I, whatever she owes me for what she did, and she does owe me, she isn't paying up to that woman."

"You think she'd go after Henry?" Emma asks.

"Yes."

"But Regina will protect him, right?"

"You tell me," Snow responds. "Seems you know this Regina far more than I do."

"This Regina?"

"She's different Very different, actually. Old Regina was emotional and vicious. This one is cold and defensive. So you tell me, would she protect Henry?"

"Yes," Emma nods. And then with a frown, "I think to the death."

"Then she really has changed," Snow says softly.

"That bothers you?"

"No, it makes me…I can't really explain it, but it makes me oddly…happy." She smiles then. "I think we should go up in front of the cart. Mulan keeps looking back at us. I don't think she likes having someone behind her."

"Is it wrong that I keep wanting to burst into song?" Emma quips.

Snow laughs at this. "Yes. Very wrong. Come on." She puts an arm around her daughter, guiding her up to the front, never noticing the fact that the woman in the cart isn't quite as unconscious as she seems to be.

* * *

Charming arrives at her house at just after ten at night. He's not quite sure what he expects to find, but he's not exactly surprised when he sees her waiting for him, dressed as if she's about to go into the office for the evening.

"What?" she drawls. "You expected me to wear sweats?"

"No, I guess not. Flannel maybe?"

She huffs at that, "Flannel is for pajamas and boys' shirts."

He just smiles at that. It's obnoxious and oddly endearing. Which just annoys the living hell out of her.

"Shall we do this then?" she asks sharply.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his expression changing to one of concern.

"Charming, don't go getting weepy on me. You might make me think you'll miss me when I'm gone."

"You made Henry a promise," he reminds her, ignoring her pointed barb. She's doing what she always does, putting space between herself and her emotions. Putting distance between herself and others who might see through the mask.

"No, I made you a promise," she answers. "I haven't spoken to Henry in days."

"Do you want to see him before we go to City Hall?"

"There's no time," she says simply.

"You're not planning on keeping your promise. To me. Are you?"

"Don't take it personally," she admonishes. "I'm simply being realistic. The amount of power I'll have to channel into me in order to open up a dimensional portal on this side will be enormous. I'm well out of practice as you previously noted. It's not inconceivable that I'll be overwhelmed."

"You make it sound so matter of fact."

"Would you prefer I cry as I say it?"

"Have you been crying?"

She snorts in disgust. "Is that all you pathetic people do? Vent your emotions on everyone? No, dear, I have not been crying."

"You're lying." He's looking right at her when he says this, his blue eyes boring right into her soul. It's discomforting, and it takes everything she has not to shift underneath the intense gaze.

"Excuse you."

"No, excuse you. Like you said, Regina, you're about to head into something that could very well kill you. Maybe it's not such a terrible thing to allow yourself a little bit of self-honesty. Maybe it's okay to admit you're scared."

"On the contrary, I'm not scared at all."

"Then what are you?"

"For the first time in a long time? Hopeful." She again meets his eyes when he says this, and sees complete honesty there.

"Okay."

"Good. Then as I said before, shall we get on with this?"

"As you wish, your Majesty."

"You know, Charming, I think I like it when you say that."

"I wouldn't get to used to it."

"Shame," she shrugs. She reaches out, grabs a grey suit jacket, pulls it on, and then steps out into the cool night. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh Maine air. "Every star in the sky," she muses.

He frowns at that.

"Oh, stop," she chuckles. "That wasn't a cry for help. It was just an observation."

"Fine. My truck is over there."

She snorts at that, her face distorting in a show of disgust. "Please. I don't ride in dirty trucks."

"Now? Really? You're going to make a big deal of my truck now?"

"Yes. My Mercedes is over there. If I don't make it out of this, I expect you to ensure that it's well taken care of. Do you understand?"

"You have very strange priorities."

"Hardly," she answers, turning to face him, a suddenly intense loo on her face. "I know that you'll take care of Henry. I know you and Snow and Ms. Swan will ensure that he grows to be the incredible young man he was always meant to be." She stops for a moment when she says this, emotion finally breaking through. He sees the way her expression shifts as she tries to control herself, as she tries to keep him from seeing her vulnerable. After a moment, she chokes out, "I'm just hoping that you'll keep the car from getting turned into parts."

"Why don't we worry about that later?" he suggest softly.

"Very well. I'll drive."

"Isn't the idea for us to get to City Hall alive?"

"I think you just made a joke, Charming."

"I think you just recognized humor, Regina."

"Mm. Get in. And put your seatbelt on. Oh, and please, do try to shut up for five minutes."

* * *

"Up," Mulan says, pushing Cora out into the clearing.

"I need my hands free," the older woman states, self-congratulating herself on not turning the warrior woman into a pile of ash. Maybe in a few minutes. After the portal is open. "Can't do magic without them."

"Release them," Snow says. She then looks right at Cora. "But if you try anything, I'll gut you." She says this as coldly as possible, trying to ignore the surprised look that she sees coming from Emma.

"Snow, dear, you talk tough, but you don't have actual murder in your heart."

"After all you and your family have done to me, you'd be surprised."

"And yet you still hold out hope for my daughter." She sees Snow's surprised look and laughs. "Oh yes, child, I heard everything. How very terribly happy you are that she knows how to love again." The word "love" is spat out with disgust.

"That's none of your business."

"Everything about my daughter is my business."

"Shame you'll never see her again," Emma says, her fingers gliding to her gun.

"Yes, a shame indeed. Now, if you'd like me to open your portal, I would suggest standing back. That is assuming you want to live through this."

"I will kill you," Snow reminds her.

"You are certainly entitled to try." And then, with a wave of her hand that causes a cloud of purple smoke to appear in the air, she begins to speak in a dark language that sounds old and of a different world.

No, of this world. These words are of this world, Emma realizes.

Suddenly, in the air, a circle of dark energy appears.

And then it begins to swirl, turning purple as it moves.

* * *

Her entrance into City Hall goes about as well as one might imagine. Those gathered there – the folks like Ruby, Granny and Archie, who have been touched by magic – are apprehensive and uncertain. Granny is holding a crossbow in her hands, and Ruby – unsure of how to summon forth her wolf self – has a knife on her belt. They're protecting themselves; Regina can hardly fault them for that.

Even if the reality is quite different; their little weapons would provide no real opposition to her if her goal was to destroy these people.

Lucky for them, it's not.

"Where's Henry tonight?" Regina asks Charming as they enter. Seeing the people here, it occurs to her that most of those who Henry would stay with are gathered in this room.

"He's with Katherine."

"Ah."

"You know for some reason or another, she still believes in you."

"I'm sorry for that," Regina answers, and he wonders if she's sorry for what had been done to Katherine or for his ex-whatever-she-actually-was still having faith in the former mayor. He suspects that it's a bit of both.

"He's safe," Charming assures her, bringing the conversation back around to Henry. She seems oddly relieved by this, and simply nods her gratitude.

"All right then. I'll need everyone gathered around me," she says, raising her voice to address the group. She knows that they're all here because Charming convinced them to be, but if this is going to work, they're going to need to listen to her. Ideally, they'd need to trust her as well, but as that's off the table, they'll need to do as told, and actually believe this could work.

If they don't, then it's quite likely that her chance at redemption, and Charming's chance at bringing his family home are both shot.

"Tight circle," she says as the group moves in.

"Do we uh…do we need to be holding hands?" Archie asks nervously.

"No, Doctor, not unless you'd like to." Try as she might, she can't quite stop herself from adding in a bemused smirk. Thankfully, Dr. Hopper is the one guy in this town that seems to have enough of a sense of humor to just go with it.

"Are we supposed to do anything?" Ruby queries. "Say anything, I mean?"

"No, you won't need to say a word, but what I do need you to do is close your eyes and clear your mind. Think only of things that make you strong."

"Strong like my wolf form?"

"Strong like love when it was pure and untouched by pain," she says simply, almost sadly. "The most powerful magic in the world is love."

"Can we do this?" Charming asks the group.

"We can do this," Ruby answers immediately. She nods at Granny, who finally, with significant suspicion tossed towards Regina, takes her place in the circle.

"Excellent," Regina nods. "Now before you close your eyes, I need you to remember that once the actual power surge begins, you must step backwards and get to immediate safety. If you do not, you risk being pulled into the portal or being injured in any energy blowback. Do you all understand?"

"We understand," Granny says.

"Excellent, then if you could please put down the crossbow."

"Maybe it's my happy strong place," the older woman quips.

"Somehow I can see that," Regina responds.

"Put it down, Granny," Charming urges.

"Fine."

She drops it down, and then steps back next to Ruby.

"Close your eyes now," Regina urges. "You, too, Charming. But I need you to focus on Emma and Snow. Only good thoughts. Happy and strong."

He does as told, closing his eyes and allowing his memories of his wife sweep over him. He thinks about holding his infant daughter, and then hugging his adult one. He thinks of having both of them in his arms again.

And then he feels it.

There's a rush of enormous warmth up through him. For a moment, he feels like he's burning up, roasting within his own body. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds before the heat is surging out of him.

And then, as his eyes open, he sees the energy leaping right towards Regina.

The power hits her square in the chest and she gasps, her eyes widening. He can see the excitement and exhilaration on her face, and again he's reminded of a drug addict. Her expression is like someone riding an insane high.

The delirious high doesn't last long.

The rest of the surges from everyone else begin to pour in, and very quickly, he can tell that she's been overwhelmed by it. This is the overdose part, he thinks to himself, as she begins to tremble violently. Her face contorts, and one of the most chilling screams that he's ever heard in life rips forth from her as her shakes become almost like seizures, worsening by the moment.

Reluctantly, he turns from her and towards the others, who are just as horrified and riveted as he'd been just a second earlier. "Get back," he says to them. "It's about to happen. Get to safety." When no one moves, he says again, looking right at Ruby, "Red, get them to safety. Please. Now!"

Thankfully, the young woman is quick on her toes. With one look back at Regina, she begins to push everyone out of the room and towards the hallway. Finally, it's just she, Charming and Regina left. "What happens now?" she asks.

"What happens now is you get out of here. Take care of Henry."

"Of course. How long will you be gone?"

"Until we can find a way back. Hopefully very soon."

"And the queen?"

"Has earned her life. If she's not pulled in with me, you have to promise me, if she lives, you won't let them hurt her. She did this for Henry. She's to be left alone and if she's hurt, she's to be taken care of. Understood?"

"Perfectly. You have my word."

"I know I do. Now go."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. Go, Red, go!"

She nods, then races from the room. He turns back to Regina, shocked to see just how badly she's coming apart, her agonized screams almost silent now as her throat protest the internal shredding of it.

It's clear to him that she's destroying herself to open this portal.

God, why?

For Henry.

There had to be another way.

He knows better, though. For her, it's always been about the big moments, and the grand gestures. For her, after what she'd done, the only way redemption could be found was through the mirror of sacrifice and death.

It's a ridiculous shame, really.

He doesn't have much time to think about this, though, before he sees a circle of purple appear behind her. And then it begins to swirl.

A moment later, he feels a violent pull, as if something is grabbing him and yanking him in. He doesn't resist it, just lets the force take him.

It takes her, too.

* * *

Cora can feel the strange force coming from the other side, almost as if someone has opened a similar portal door in the other world. It's something that only someone with enormous power and magic ability could do.

Someone like Regina.

Smiling enough to make everyone around her nervous (well good, she thinks), she moves her hands in the opposite way, changing the force of the spell.

In layman's' terms, from push to pull.

There's an explosion then as the portal yanks through those who'd been trying to get through, pulling them over much as a magnet would.

And then the portal closes, leaving its two travelers lying on the forest floor.

* * *

She's overwhelmed by fever, heat and pain, her entire body a tightly coiled ball of agony. She's shaking hard enough to make the dirt beneath her tremble, and vaguely, she wonders if this is what dying feels like.

She hears voices then, and with considerable effort, she forces her pained eyes open. She looks around her, seeing first Charming kneeling a few feet away from her, his legs jellied from the journey. A roll of her head to the side, and she sees the two they'd come over for – Emma and Snow.

Snow has her mouth open, like she's yelling something (Regina finds her mind too feverish to be able to actually figure out what she's saying), but what she notices the most is the way Emma is moving towards her, hands outstretched, a strange look of shock and horror covering the blonde's face.

The weird thing is, for some reason, Emma doesn't seem to be actually moving so much as trying to move. She seems almost bizarrely stuck in place, unable take a step forward. Like she's trapped by…

Oh, no…

She rolls her head again, and her eyes stop on the woman standing above her, a cruel, but grotesquely happy smile pulling her lips apart.

"Mother," Regina whispers, her heart seizing with fear.

And then everything goes dark.

**TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This is a bit of an unusual chapter here, somewhat transitional, somewhat...creative? I wnted to let everyone (Regina, Charming, Snow and Emma) have a POV on what was probably 5 minutes of storytelling. I hope it reads and comes out well and that it's neither confusing nor obnoxiously repetitive.

Again, thanks for all of your kind words, and hope you continue to enjoy the read.

* * *

Her first real memory (she has strange floating visuals from other days before that, but this remembrance is solid and still, and after all this time, oddly tangible) is from somewhere around her third birthday. She'd hardly been a precocious child (mother was never one for unnecessary questions or childhood nonsensical behaviors), but she'd been intelligent, even at such a ridiculously tender age.

And even then, Regina had known when she'd gone too far.

True, she'd been three and hungry and tired, and no more in control of herself than any other child of that age, but at the moment when her mother had spun towards her, eyes as dark as the blackest coal, she'd known that something was very wrong. She'd known that this time, her tantrum would get her punished.

Punished.

At three years of age, she hadn't yet understood what that terrible word really meant, hadn't yet understood just how truly horrific it could be. A few seconds later, though, as she'd been lifted high up into the suddenly stale and harshly cold air, her legs kicking out, salty tears running down her face, she'd for the first time realized just how painful life could be.

She can still remember hearing her father – her pathetic and weak daddy – begging her mother to let her down. Cora had snorted in disgust at the man, and lifted her daughter up higher, terrifying the girl enough to make her soil herself.

Even at three, doing so had been horrifying and humiliating.

But maybe, then, that had been the whole point of the exercise. The lesson to be learned, taught to her by a cruel and sadistic teacher.

This would be a lesson that she would spend the next several decades trying to forget, but there are things that you can't ever forget.

Nightmares that never go away.

This is hers.

* * *

Her foggy consciousness fades in and out like a poisonous snake slithering in and out of its dark sleeping hole. Fever and pain streak through her exhausted body, polluting her mind and breaking her body. The monstrous amount of magic that she'd absorbed from all of those folks in Storybrooke is still humming, and still burning within her, but she derives no pleasure from the sensations.

These don't feel good. No, these hurt like hell.

These feel like she's being torn apart piece by piece.

She thinks maybe she is.

She shakes again, her troubled and tormented mind fracturing into a thousand small shards of broken glass even as so much happens around her. She is aware that there are people above her (Charming and Snow and Emma and Mother…) but she finds herself unable to focus, unable to even breathe, really.

Everything hurts. Aches, screams and burns.

And still she shakes. The movements are violent, and somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she knows that she's doing even more damage to herself now, her tremors bruising and maybe even breaking her body.

"Stop," she hears just before she feels a woman's' hand on each shoulder. The touches are meant to restrain her, keep her from hurting herself. And for some inexplicable reason, they work. Her shakes don't stop, but they do slow.

She groans then, gasping in pain.

A strong hand moves from her shoulder to her face, the touch gentle, but not exactly soft. "Regina," she hears, and distantly, she remembers that this is her name. A second hand leaves her shoulder and comes to rest on her other cheek. "Regina," the voice says again. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."

The words are absurd, preposterous.

They're also appreciated in some vague and abstract way. If for no other reason than because very few other people in her life have ever said those words to her.

Very few have ever – even lying – told her it that it would be okay. Sad, but true.

Another voice – this one cold and familiar (Mother, she knows without seeing), growls out a furious warning, "Step away from her."

"Go to hell," her protector – the person Regina knows with absolute certainty is Emma - snaps back. If Regina were more in her mind, she might smirk at that because sometimes, the thing that annoys you the very most about a person (their lack of class or sophistication or their habit of constantly speaking sans filter) can actually be the thing you admire the most about them as well.

She hears a throaty scream then, and part of her tries (and fails rather pathetically) to rally because instinctively, she knows that the sound had come from the person who'd been touching her.

Trying to help her.

The sound had come from Emma.

Because really, the great savior of everything, (she feels a wave of bitterness as she thinks this, but quickly pushes it back, understanding the ridiculous illogic of it) Emma Swan seems to be the only person who cares if she lives or dies.

This isn't a sob story, she tells herself. This is simply understanding her situation properly. When you screw over the world (or in this case, all of Fairytale Land), very few people are going to line up to keep you from getting your just rewards.

Emma had, though. She'd saved her from the crowd, and then the wraith twice.

Shame, then, that she can't save herself from Cora.

No one can.

No one.

Regina loses consciousness again.

* * *

It's the weirdest damn thing for Emma Swan. Not that the last week or so hasn't been ridiculously weird enough, but seeing a dimensional portal open and then watching as her father and the other mother of her child come falling through it, their bodies spinning nearly out of control, well that's just insane.

Suffice it to say, things get wackier in a hurry.

The first thing she notices is that something is very wrong with Regina. The woman is surrounded in bright light. There's a hazy purple tint around the edges of the light, but really, it's just damned blinding. The second thing she notices is the way the mayor is trembling, her body shaking like it's trying to come apart.

And the sounds Regina is making, the way she's crying out? Emma could only begin to describe them as horrific, almost inhumane. In spite of herself, in spite of all of the anger and frustration that Emma still feels for this infuriating woman, she finds herself suddenly feeling sympathy and pity for her as well.

Because no one should hurt like this.

She hears Snow whisper her father's name – Charming. She turns her head to watch her mother move him, and then suddenly stop. It's the strangest thing.

Still, Emma thinks nothing of it, just moves herself, her legs carrying her towards Regina's violently shuddering form. She passes by a shell-shocked Mulan. That's when things get really interesting. Unfortunately, not in a good way.

Cora, who'd Emma all but forgotten about upon seeing Regina and Charming come flying through the portal, puts up her hand and simply says, "Stop."

A moment later, Emma's got both hands out like she's trying to move forward, but there might as well be an invisible wall in her way. She pushes against it, gives it everything she has, but the damned thing holds, refuses to let her pass.

Her eyes track over to her parents, who are both staring at each other in shock and disbelief. This isn't a happy reunion, though. Charming has pushed himself up to his knees, but he looks vaguely like he'd like to vomit. Snow, for her part, is watching the scene unfold in front of them with an expression of horror.

Like maybe she knows what's about to happen.

Emma pushes against the wall again. Slams against it with her fists. For all the good that does. Which is none. Dammit.

She looks over at the woman she's trying to get to, the one lying on the floor of the forest, her body shaking like she's seizing. Regina's eyes are open, but clouded with fever and pain. Emma watches her look around, and then sees the brunette's dark orbs widen in fear as she sees Cora.

"Mother," she whispers just before her eyes roll backwards.

Thankfully, it appears the sight of Regina – and hearing her daughter speak to her – had been an equal shock to the older woman because suddenly the invisible force field is gone. Emma hears Snow call out for her, but she ignores her (and Mulan, who has pulled her sword and is looking around for a way to attack Cora without getting blasted back to Storybrooke) and jerks towards Regina, falling to her knees beside the mayor.

She absorbs the situation, taking in the way Regina's body is flopping about. She sees the cuts and bruises now marring the brunette's skin, each impact with the forest floor breaking open a new wound. Her mind cycles and circles, and she realizes that priority one is stopping Regina from hurting herself.

She finds herself repeating Cora's halting word (how unsettling is that), the word "stop" slipping from her lips as she presses a hand against each of Regina's shoulders. She leans her body forward, pressing her weight against the mayor, using her body to slow the brunette's violent tremors. Amazingly, it works, and after a moment, Regina begins to still (though not quite stop).

Regina whimpers then, the sound pathetic and heartbreaking.

Emma reaches for Regina, moving a shaky and somewhat uncertain hand from her shoulder to her cheek. The heat she feels there is worrying. "Regina," she says, hoping that the woman can hear her. She doesn't know why exactly she feels so damned compelled to ensure Regina is all right (for Henry, she tells herself) but she sure as hell does.

"Regina," Emma whispers again, putting her other hand on the mayor's cheek as well. It's like she's cupping the woman's face, an almost unthinkably gentle motion just a few days ago. The next words leave her mouth before she can think to stop them. "It's okay," Emma insists. "You're going to be okay."

"Step away from her," she hears, the voice cold like ice.

Without removing her hands away from Regina's feverish skin, she looks over her shoulder at Cora and growls out, "Go to hell."

And then she stupidly makes the mistake of turning her back on Cora. Maybe it's seeing Regina's hazy brown now eyes open and watching her, but for a moment, she forgets that the mayor's mother is clearly psychotic and quite dangerous.

It's almost a fatal mistake.

She senses the pull backwards just before she feels the sharp jerking pain in her ribcage. She doesn't want to scream – doesn't want to give Cora the pleasure of hearing the sound – but she's unable to stop the guttural noise from escaping her rapidly constricting throat as her bones pop and threaten to explode.

"Let her go," Snow screams and Emma looks down (realizing with a sharp and discomforting start that she's actually suspended in the air by a blue wave of some kind of shimmering magic) to see her parents and Mulan circling Cora.

The funnies thing of all (and that she finds this amusing makes Emma wonder if she's lost oxygen to the brain) is that Snow has a sword out and is aiming it right at Cora, like she means to cut the woman down with the blade.

"There's no need for such violence, Snow, dear," Cora says with a patronizing smirk. "I'm not here for your precious daughter anyway. I'm here for mine."

And with that and a completely unnecessarily dramatic hand flourish, she throws Emma backwards, the force violent like whiplash. The blonde feels her body slam into a tree, and then suddenly she's the one fighting for consciousness.

Fighting and failing.

A moment later, she's the one blacking out.

* * *

This is somewhere beyond a nightmare.

Snow looks around helplessly, the smell of smoke stinging her nostrils, and making her want to gag. She can still see strange dark circles in the sky where the portal had been mere moments earlier. It has since closed, leaving only the thick and uncomfortable feeling of powerful magic hanging around in the air.

Her eyes refocus on the woman standing in front of her, the witch's hands lifted up in the air as she controls magic enough to suspend Emma several feet above them all. Emma is panicked and terrified, this much is clear to everyone. The young blonde doesn't understand magic, has never felt it's terrible touch before.

Has never wondered if she was about to die because of it.

Cora laughs as she squeezes her hands, the pressure of the motion causing Emma to wince as her bones constrict and push together. Emma clearly can't take much more, and neither Snow nor Charming have any intention of allowing their newly recovered daughter to be hurt by this horrific beast of a woman.

"Let her go!" Snow screams, hefting a sword. She points it right at Cora, pretending for just a moment in her mind that what's threatening to do isn't utterly preposterous. If only it were so easy to strike down evil.

It never is.

Cora turns her head to look at her, the expression on her face one of cold amusement. "There's no need for such violence, Snow, dear," the vile woman says. "I'm not here for your precious daughter, anyway. I'm here for mine."

The words send an icy chill through Snow's heart, and for a moment, she's a small girl again, her arms wrapped around the woman who had saved her life from what would have certainly been a fatal fall from her horse.

Before Snow can think of what to do or how to respond, Cora waves her hand dramatically, and Emma spins out of the sky, her body slamming against a tree with almost no resistance. She sags then, much like a rag doll would. Snow screams her name, and with Charming close by, she races for Emma.

"Emma," she says again as they get to their daughter. She reaches out for Emma, first feeling for (and thankfully finding) a pulse. She then slides a hand under Emma's jaw, and lifts up her bruised face. "Baby, open your eyes."

"She'll be fine," Cora tells her. "You needn't worry about her. Though perhaps you might need to worry about her." She snaps around then, flicking her wrist and sending Mulan – who has been quietly advancing on her - flying. The warrior woman tumbles into the trees, and goes still.

"You horrible evil bitch," Snow growls, tears running down her face. She feels Charming's' hand on her forearm, his touch comforting, but not calming. He just reminds her of how often people have tried to take her family away from her.

"Am I evil? Yes, I suppose I am in your eyes. You are so very simple, dear," Cora reproaches. "So very simple and so very innocent." This word is said – more spat out - with disgust and disdain.

"What you call simple and innocent, I call human," Snow retorts.

"Call it what you please. But this conversation is over. Have your pathetic little life, dear Snow; I have what I want."

And with that, she makes her way over to the unconscious form of her daughter, touches her arm, then waves her own hand around, a thick cloud of black smoke forming and growing with each circle she makes.

Charming is the one who leaps up – much to Snow's amazement. He jerks forward, as if he's trying to get to Regina before Cora can disappear with her.

He's wasting his time.

Yelling out the word, "No," he crashes almost face-first into the wall of black smoke around Cora and Regina, the force of the shockingly violent collision making him crumple to the ground in pain.

* * *

His stomach rolls violently, each movement making him regret the sizable lunch that he'd consumed just hours earlier. That had been a goodbye mean of sorts with Henry, a way for them to spend time together before this grand quest began.

He'd promised Henry then that he'd be returning with Snow and Emma. And Regina as well. He thinks Henry – ever the smart boy – had been able to read the look in his eyes, the uncertainty he'd felt about his assurance in regards to Regina. At that point in time, all Charming had known was that Regina had planned to put herself in the middle of an explosion big enough to rip a portal open. Whether she would live through it had been a mystery yet to solve.

Still, he'd promised Henry that he would protect her because under all the confusion and fear and other dark emotions that the boy might feel for his adopted mother, he also feels love for her. He might be angry for what she's done, but even Charming knows that he misses her more deeply than he'll admit.

As for the mystery of whether the former queen would survive the power surge, that has, for the moment, been answered. Though clearly Regina had been overwhelmed by the magic she'd absorbed (his mind still insists on likening it to a violent drug overdose), she'd come through the portal alive.

At least somewhat. It's clear to him that she's not right, her body breaking apart beneath the weight of the magic. Whether she can survive this, he doesn't know. He finds himself mystified to realize that he hopes she can.

It seems to him that she's already tried to find her redemption in putting her life on the line to bring Emma and Snow home. Now, he hopes she can find peace.

This isn't it.

He's on the ground next to Emma, a few feet away from Snow, who is frantically touching her daughter, ensuring that she's alive. He touches Snow's arm, tries to offer her strength. She reacts to him, but it's not enough.

She's terrified.

So is he.

Charming looks around, sees Snow's warrior friend lying on the ground, just now beginning to regain her bearing. Blood seeps from a deep cut on the side of her head. She looks like she'd come in contact with a rock or some other hard object. She's clearly dizzy, not yet able to stand after being thrown backwards by Cora.

Funny how such a simple motion can cause so much damage.

As evidenced by both Emma and Mulan.

"You horrible evil bitch," Snow hisses, her eyes blazing with fury. He's seen her angry before, even seen her rage (usually towards Regina), but this emotion she's broadcasting is different than anything he's ever seen before. This is actual hate (it has never been lost on him that during all of their time in Fairytale Land, even after Snow had given up on Regina, his wife had never truly come to hate her former stepmother). This is the woman who is the actual genesis of all the hurt that surrounds them all. This is the monster who'd started all of this pain in motion simply so she could have power.

"Am I evil?" Cora asks, lifting an eyebrow. She seems utterly unconcerned with the question, unbothered by the implications of it. "Yes, I suppose I am in your eyes. You are so very simple, dear. So very simple and so very innocent."

"What you call simple and innocent, I call human," Snow snaps back. He tightens his hold on her, willing her to stay still and not make a foolish charge for Cora.

That could only end in more tragedy.

"Call it what you please," Cora answers with a bored sigh. "But this conversation is over. Have your pathetic little life, dear Snow; I have what I want."

Then, much to Charming's horror, the older woman moves over to where Regina is lying and kneels down beside her. She places her hand on her daughter, and then waves the other one in the air. Black smoke appears around her, and immediately, Charming knows what's happening.

His mind allows only a moment of battle with his heart. A week earlier, he would have had no problem with allowing a wraith to make Regina pay for her many crimes. Things have changed, though. Nothing is the same.

And suddenly, he's the one driven by the need to bring home Henry's family.

All of it.

He leaps to his feet and charges Cora, screaming out the word, "No."

Sometimes, the hero doesn't win. Sometimes, the bad guy just laughs.

She does now as well.

He collides nearly face-first with the black smoke, the sound of Cora's laughter in his hears as he crumbles to the ground, feeling as though he's been punched.

When he regains his senses a few seconds later, he sees that he's still in the forest. He sits up and looks around, his eyes lighting upon Snow and Emma (who is also coming to, though slowly and painfully). He sees the warrior woman who he does not know (but knows she is with Snow) staggering towards them.

What he doesn't see is Regina.

Neither she nor Cora are anywhere to be seen.

They're just gone.

"She has her," Charming says dully as he moves to his feet.

"Has who?" Emma asks him, blinking her eyes against the moonlight. She's wincing, clearly hurting. He'd like to kill Cora for this alone.

"Cora," Snow answers, her voice as dull as his. "Cora has Regina."

"No," Emma groans. "We can't…we have to…I promised Henry…"

Charming steps towards her, and puts his arms around. He doesn't care at this moment that they barely really know each other. He only cares that she's his daughter, and it's his job to protect his family. "Don't worry," he tells her. "I made the same promise to Henry that you did, and I plan to keep that promise. We'll keep that promise. We will find her, and we will stop Cora, and then all of us are going back to Henry. All of us."

He meets his daughters' eyes, then his wife's.

And they both know that whatever it takes, he will keep his promise.

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** The action and drama begins to really build here (I hope), coming close to a major collision of power and magic. I thank you, as always, for the many kind words provided. For those who have been patient with the slow build, I ask you to continue being so. This will have payoff, I promise, and it will be about the relationships between the 4, especially Regina and Emma.

Again, thanks, and please enjoy.

* * *

The rain comes within minutes of Cora's abduction of Regina. Apparently, per a less than amused Snow, rain here in the Enchanted Forest is always of the freezing cold kind. This reality hits Emma hard once the icy water starts penetrating through the thin layer of clothing she has on. Her leather jacket provides only the most cursory of protection against the weather. It's fairly useless compared to this little elemental temper tantrum.

"If I didn't know better," Emma quips, rain running down her face, "I'd almost think Regina had made it rain on purpose. Just to piss us all off."

Snow smiles slightly at that, but doesn't respond. Maybe she'd been thinking the same thing or maybe she's thinking about where Regina is right now. A place none of them can really even begin to guess at right about now.

"We need to find shelter," Mulan states suddenly, her wits and senses apparently still about her despite the blow to the head. The bruising has spread down her face, and if they were back in Emma's world, the blonde might even comment about the impressively growing (and colored) shiner she sees there, but she holds her tongue now (somewhat amazingly, it seems that she can learn, she muses) simply because she has no idea how people here perceive wounds.

Are they red badges of courage or a marks of shame? A little of both? None of either? So much to learn, and hardly the time to stop and take a breath to do so.

Especially right now.

"I agree," Snow nods. She looks to both her husband and daughter, sees the doubt laced expressions both are wearing, and lowers her voice to a much more calming and soothing one. "I know you're both worried, but we will find her."

It's so strange to her to be making vows to find the woman who has hurt her – and her family – so deeply and so terribly. A very large part of her wants to say to hell with Regina. That part wants to let her and her mother do their worst to each other. Regina would certainly, after all the horrible things she's done to so very many people, deserve a taste of her own medicine.

And perhaps, if she were a different person, Snow might just let that happen.

She's not, though. She's a person who even with anger and hurt in her heart, knows that what's happening to her former stepmother most be stopped. It's more than that, if she's honest with herself, however.

It's about her past with Regina. A blackened and ugly past that had been troubled and complicated. She'd been a small child, certainly, but that doesn't alter the fact that if she had held her tongue on that day so very many years ago, a lot of things would have turned out very differently. And it doesn't change the fact that deep down, Snow still harbors feelings for her Regina that are more loving and familial. Deep down, she still misses the smile of the woman who had taught her what true love really was, and what it could do.

It's about Charming, too, and whatever bond he'd formed with Regina after the portal had closed. Clearly, they'd made a connection of sorts. She supposes she should worry about this, be concerned about whether Regina had manipulated her husband. Tried to seduce him as she's tried to seduce so many others.

Funny thing is, though, she's not worried. Not even a little bit.

Maybe it's Charming's hand curled into her own, his warm touch firm and strong against her palm. Maybe it's the look she sees in his eyes, the one that tells her that there's no force in any world that could have kept him from her forever.

It's clear to her, then, that Regina hadn't gone after him. Hadn't tried to bring him over and manipulate him. Perhaps then, for the first time in a long time, she'd told him the truth of things. Perhaps he'd seen something in her worth saving.

Saving Regina is about Henry, too. He doesn't understand the true ways of adult human emotion and the bonds created, but he will. There will come a day when he is able to see his mother as a person and not just a character. She'll never be perfect or even ideal, but eventually, he'll understand the depth of he love for him, and when he does, Snow realizes that she wants Regina there for it.

Finally, this quest is about Emma, and perhaps that's the most perplexing and nonsensical connection of all.

Snow would like to say that she knows her daughter, and as Mary Margaret, maybe she does a little, but as Snow White, she's still a bit lost as to how to respond to her headstrong and wildly impulsive twenty-eight (!) year old child.

She knows that Emma has been through hell in her life (and honestly, this realization is what slows her willingness to forgive Regina), but she can only begin to imagine the flavors of it. She hopes that as time goes on, Emma will open up to her, and let her in, but she knows that she needs to tread gently. She needs to do what she so often struggles to do, and that is not push.

She needs to, curiously enough, not be Regina's step-daughter right now.

Or maybe she needs to do quite the opposite. Maybe, considering the deepening frown she sees on Emma's face as her willful daughter considers stopping their rather frantic search for the former queen for the night, maybe what she needs to do is embrace the lessons that she'd learned from Regina. Maybe what she needs to do is put her foot down and let both Emma and Charming know how things have to be, no matter their disagreement.

No one is freezing to death on this night.

There's simply no point in it.

"Her mother could do serious damage to her," Emma says, and the frown deepens. Snow wonders if Emma is fighting the same internal battle she is, trying to figure out why it is that she cares about what happens to this woman.

If she is fighting this battle, though, she sure isn't showing it on her face.

Snow lowers her voice again. "There's nothing we can do about that now."

She'd love to be able to lie to Emma and Charming right about now, would love to be able to tell them with a straight face that Regina is in no immediate danger. It'd be nice to be able to say that Cora is simply having tea with her long-lost daughter, but she knows damn well that she could never make these grotesque untruths come from her lips. The real truth is, she imagines that after so very many years apart, Cora is looking to make up for lost time.

In a way that would make anyone with a soul shudder.

"We promised Henry," Charming reminds his wife. She looks over at him, meets his eyes and for a moment, gets lost within him. He sees into her soul, sees how troubled and confused she is, and offers her a small smile of understanding.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she nods her head, and says in a voice that's just barely audible, "I know. We promised him we won't let Regina die, and we won't. And I promise you, as hard as this is to hear and understand, whatever Cora plans to do to Regina, death is not at the top of her list."

"That's supposed to make us feel better?" Emma counters.

"No, of course not. It doesn't make me feel better. But it means we have time. Right now, we have no idea where Cora and Regina are."

"What about Regina's old castle?"

"Possible. Has that one been taken over by the Dark Lords as well?" Snow asks, turning to look at Mulan.

"I believe so."

"Then it's doubtful Cora would go there. At least not yet."

"Not yet?" Emma queries, her expression going dark. She doesn't really understand the way this world works, but she has a good idea that she doesn't like what she's hearing, doesn't care for what she's about to hear.

"There could be a time where Cora uses Regina as a negotiation chip. I imagine that there are many of the Lords who would give up just about anything to claim ownership over the Evil Queen who enacted the Dark Curse."

"But not yet," Emma reiterates. "We still have time?"

"We do," Snow confirms.

"All right, then," Charming nods. "We find shelter for the night. Once the storm passes, we continue our search for her." He looks at Emma. "Acceptable?"

"Not really a choice."

"We will find her," he assures his daughter.

" Yes, we will. I'm not going home to Henry without her," Emma tells him. "He may not realize it yet, but he does love her."

"And she loves him," Charming nods. "We wouldn't be here otherwise."

"Sounds like you have a story to tell," Snow says, eyebrow lifted.

"I do." He turns to Mulan. "I expect you know these woods better than anyone, certainly better than we do."

"The Enchanted Forest has changed since you passed worlds," Mulan agrees with a sharp understanding nod. "But yes, I know of a place to rest for the night."

* * *

The cavern that Mulan brings the group to is, not all that surprisingly, quite dark and cold. Snow quickly builds a fire, then passes Emma a blanket from the back of the wagon. Thankfully, they'd been smart enough to bring a few days worth of food and supplies with them, anticipating that there just be issues getting back to the safe haven quickly. Emma is hardly warm, but she's not freezing, either.

"You okay?" Snow asks, sitting next to her.

"Yeah."

Snow smiles slightly, seeing if not hearing the lie in her daughters' voice. "Yeah meaning no?"

Emma chuckles at that, her eyes tracking up to where Charming is standing with Mulan, no doubt discussing who will stand guard on the front of the cavern.

"You're worried," Snow states. "About her."

"I am, and I know it's ridiculous. We'd all be better off if we just left her here."

"But Henry," Snow nods.

"It's more than that. More than that for you, too."

"Mm," Snow admits. "I suppose it is."

"But you don't want to talk about it."

"I'm not sure what to say," Snow admits. "I spent so many years before the curse despising her and hating her. I spent so many years during the curse being afraid of her, and wishing she'd just disappear off the face of the earth. And now…"

"And now we could just let it happen," Emma notes with a sigh. Her tone makes it clear that this really isn't an option for her so much as a discussion that needs to be had before a plan of action is hatched.

"Yes, we could, but that's not what we're going to do. This awful cycle of hurt has got to end," Snow says. "One of us has to do right by the other."

"One of you did," Charming puts in as he comes over. He drapes another thick woolen blanket over Emma's shoulder (earning him a dramatic, but oddly humoring roll of her eyes) and then drops down and puts an arm around Snow.

"She helped you open the portal," Emma guesses.

"She did."

"So Regina has her magic back?" Snow asks.

"Not exactly. When you touched her, Emma, you jumpstarted her, but it was more like a car battery sputtering. She could make candles light, but nothing more after whatever you gave her dissipated. In order to open the portal, she had to pull in magic from everyone in town who had some of their own."

"Mr. Gold?" Emma queries with a frown. She's not sure how she feels about receiving assistance from the slippery shopkeeper. Rumplestilskin. Seems like everything he touches (or manipulates, as is his way) comes with an ugly hidden edge that was created just to make you bleed.

"No, not him. They've been steering well clear of each other since he sent the wraith after her. He wouldn't even help me when I tried to go to him to get a book of magic for her. We got help from people like Red and Grumpy. And me. Those who have been touched by magic."

"She pulled their magic in?" Snow asks.

"It was…I've never seen anything like it. She took in so much, I thought she was going to explode. I think she even liked it for a few minutes." He shakes his head at the memory. "And then she didn't. There was a light and then we were here."

"And the way she was shaking?"

"Overdose," Emma says to her mother. "Storybrooke may have been timeless for all of you, but time did pass. She went twenty-eight years without magic, and then suddenly she gets hit by the heroin of the Merlin world."

"First, yes, there is actually a Merlin," Snow admonishes, though with an amused smile. "Or at least there used to be. And second, heroin?"

"You don't know what heroin is?"

"Not really," Snow admits. "The one thing I'll say about Regina is that aside from the rampant alcohol abuse in Storybrooke, the town was decidedly drug free. But I do know of it. I mean I guess I do. I guess it makes sense?"

"If you've ever seen someone overdose, then it does completely."

"You have?" Charming asks his daughter.

"Unfortunately. And what I saw happening with her, the way she was shaking and burning up, that's exactly what that was." She frowns then, her mind slipping back a few years, back to friends lost. "Without the foaming at the mouth and the just about dead parts," she adds without humor.

"I'm sorry," Charming tells her, and he wishes that he could say so much more to her. These are things – experiences – that she was never meant to have gone through. The fact that she has, and there's nothing he can do about it, breaks his heart more than he say. More than he can ever let her know.

"So am I," she answers, then reaches out and touches his arm. It's a bit strange that she's the one offering him comfort, and yet he receives the contact gratefully, allowing for a small smile to pass between father and daughter.

"Regina is strong," Snow reassures Emma. "She's not going out like this."

"I'm not sure that's the case," Charming admits. "Before she opened the portal, I think she'd all but given up surviving. Honestly, I think she expected to die."

"Why?" Emma demands, her eyes flickering towards the entrance of the cave. She can see Mulan standing there, watching the hard rain pound the ground.

"She thought it was the only way Henry would love her."

"She couldn't just not be evil?" Emma asks, incredulous. "Damn woman. She just had to do this the hard way, didn't she?"

Snow laughs at that, laughs at the innocence in Emma's tone. For a woman who has seen the pain that Emma has, and had walked the hard road that she has, at times, the blonde is almost shockingly naïve about people and things.

"Ever since I've known Regina. Loved her, hated her, whatever, she's always done things the hard way," Snow tells her.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Emma sighs. "So what's protection detail tonight?"

"Mulan and I will take it."

"The hell you will."

"I wasn't asking," Charming quietly shoots back.

"And I don't need my dad to cuddle me up into a blanket and keep me safe."

"That's exactly what you need. You also need rest after what Cora did to you."

"He's right, Emma. You lost consciousness." And suddenly, Snow's hands on her, in her space, checking her over for breaks.

"I'm fine," Emma grunts, moving away from the touch. She tries to ignore the slightly sad look Snow tosses her away, tries to bite down on the guilt.

Thing is, she can't completely because she wonders what it'd be like to be able to receive such love and affection so easily. So freely.

Not her, she decides, pushing such thoughts away. That option is no longer present, she will never be the little sweet girl that Snow and Charming had wanted. She can't go back. She can only be who she is now.

"Maybe so," Charming nods, "But I'd be happier if you'd sleep. There will be time for you to take shifts watching over everyone going forward. I promise."

"I'm not going to win this battle, am I?"

"Not a chance."

"Fine, but this is bullshit."

"You're sulking," Snow grins.

Emma groans at that.

This having parents thing – especially the whole bit about them teaming up against her – is going to take some getting used to.

A whole lot of getting used to.

For now, though, she decides to stop fighting.

She is tired, and sore, and a few hours of sleep sounds like a great idea once the drama and pride of the here and now is stripped away.

"Fine," she grudgingly allows. "But if anything happens…"

"We'll wake you up," Charming promises. "Now sleep."

And so she does. The bright fire flickering nearby, a few blankets wrapped around her frame, she drops her head down, affords one last glance over at Charming and Snow (who are cuddled tightly together, whispering to each other) and then she closes her eyes and allows sleep to slide over her.

Unfortunately, once it does, she rather unwillingly finds herself riding shotgun in someone else's real-life nightmare.

Regina's.

* * *

The first images that Emma sees when she opens her eyes (or her dream-eyes, really, considering that she's actually sleeping) are hazy and unclear.

They look to her like they're occurring from within a windowless old cabin, the ground covered in dust, the walls and floors made of thick wood.

She finds herself standing above what seems to be a bed, but it's really more like a mound of blankets atop a surface that once might have been a mattress. And on this makeshift bed, she sees Regina sleeping fitfully.

Tossing and turning.

Whimpering and crying out in a way that frankly, Emma had never considered possible. This is a woman that she's never thought could be weak.

Or broken.

Turns out anyone can break.

Emma hears her call out for Henry, then a man named Daniel, and then she hears Regina scream Snow's name.

She hears a voice say, "Shh. It's time to wake up now. No more dreams."

* * *

"Shh. It's time to wake up now. No more dreams," Cora says, waving her hand around. Magic spills from her fingers and splashes across the room, colliding with her daughters' trembling form. It pulls Regina from her fitful nightmares, forces her back into the conscious world.

Forces her towards her reckoning.

* * *

Unconsciousness gives way once more to the insanity of the living world for Regina Mills. As she opens her eyes, she finds herself actually sorry to realize that she still draws breath. But then, life has never been easy for her, why should exiting it be so simple? Apparently, even a heroic sacrifice won't do.

She sighs and lifts her head up, blinking furiously against the pain in her body.

Her mind has been spoiled – one might even say polluted – by almost three decades of living in a world with technology and chemistry. This becomes quite clear to her as the voices in her head begin to tell her – in the mayors' strict and authoritative tone no less – that she should be in a hospital bed right about now.

Problem is, there are no hospitals in Fairytale Land. Sure, there are healers (of many kinds, some faith and some magical, but most just vaguely learned of the mysteries of the human body – mysteries that the other world has mostly solved), but none of them can give her what her aching body craves right now.

Painkillers.

About 800 milligrams of aspirin preferably. If not a hell of a lot more.

Here in this world, the most effective painkiller aside from magic is either spreading some type of manure on the wound or eating leaves that smell like they themselves were rolled in said cow shit. Sure, in the pain and discomfort that she's currently in, Regina is hardly picky, but she also has no real desire to smell like an animal from David Nolan's shelter.

David Nolan. Charming.

She tries not to think about him. Tries not to wonder if he'd been successful in their mission, if he'd managed to do what they'd opened the portal to do.

Bring his family home.

How weird it is, she thinks, to hope that he'd done exactly that. Grabbed Emma and Snow and pulled them back into Storybrooke. Away from this. Sure, it means she'll likely never see any of them ever again – never see Henry again – but maybe, just maybe, they'll all be happy. Maybe Henry will be.

And why that doesn't bother the hell out her, she just doesn't know.

"Hello, darling," her mother says bringing her attention back to her immediate surroundings and situation. The focus required to look around her is enormous, and she immediately feels a sharp searing pain race through her skull. It takes everything she has – absolutely everything – not to cry out.

"Mother," she whispers, any louder a voice simply impossible right now.

"It's been too long," Cora tells her, a smile sliding across her cold features. The macabre expression doesn't compliment her. In fact, on her, it looks downright malicious and sinister. It's been many years, but Regina remembers far too well just how badly her mother being happy tended to work out for her.

"Where am I?" Regina asks, looking around. They're in what appears to be a cottage without windows. It's small, old, and there's a faint musty smell in the air.

"Safe."

"I've never been safe with you," Regina retorts as she tries to fully sit up. Her muscles resist, and she finds herself unable to move more than a few inches.

"You wound me," Cora says, her voice sounding almost sad, almost hurt. "All I ever did, all I ever wanted to do was to take care of you. Provide for you and set you up to be happy and successful. To have power."

"I got power, Mother," Regina answers dryly. "But it never made me happy."

"That's because you never embraced it."

Regina laughs bitterly at this. "Oh, I embraced it. I took our entire world over to a place called Maine."

"A land without magic."

"A better land than this."

"And yet here you are. Back in this land."

"I had no choice."

"My dear daughter, there is always a choice. You just always picked the one that left you with the least opportunity to be powerful and strong."

"I have no desire to argue with you, Mother." Regina finally forces herself up in the bed, the sharp pain in each part of her body intensifying the closer she gets to the full-on sitting position. "I'm not that silly naïve teenage girl that you knew anymore," she hisses out. "And I'm no longer afraid of you."

Cora laughs at this, the sound sharp and cold. "Lie to yourself if you must, but we both know the truth."

"I suppose we do," Regina admits, not caring to elaborate. "What do you want with me, Mother? What game is this?"

Cora smiles again. "There's no game, Regina, my dear. I simply want to remind you of my love for you."

"That would require you to have ever loved me at all, but like you always told me, love is nothing but a weakness."

"And it still is, but you're my daughter…"

"And you want to make me pay for sending you through the mirror," Regina says dully, her patience whittled down to nothing.

"Indeed, I do."

The words are simple and cold, brutal and to the point. No more lies, no more pretenses or illusions. Just the honesty of hatred and vengeance.

A moment later, Regina actually feels this honesty when she finds herself torn from the bed, and hanging up in the air, several feet above the ground. Her mother is below her, a hand up to hold her daughter struggling in place.

"Mother," Regina gasps out.

"Shush now, darling. We have so very many things to discuss."

She clenches her hand, and suddenly all of the oxygen in the room – as stale and unappetizing as it'd been - feels like it's gone. Regina kicks in the air, gagging and coughing as she desperately tried to suck in breath.

Below her, Cora smiles grimly, watching as her wounded daughter flails around, looking about as strong as the simpering worthless child she is. To Cora's eyes, the girl looks old. Her hair is cut short and her clothes are plain and manly. There's nothing powerful about what her daughter has become.

There's just weakness.

Weakness that she will pay for.

"Mother," Regina says again, her hands flexing like she's trying to summon her own magic. She feels heat in her fingers, but nothing stronger will come to her.

"You hurt me, Regina," Cora states. "You need to know how that feels."

She clenches her hand again. A moment later, there's a loud crack as the pressure builds intensely enough to cause one of Regina's ribs to break. Unable to stop herself, the former queen screams out, tears on her cheeks.

Regina hits the ground a few moments later, the pressure finally released. Her face slams against the dusty floor, and she feels dirt enter through her nostrils, clogging up her already labored breathing. She gasps for air, fighting desperately against the swirling blackness that is suddenly sliding towards her again.

"I would have given you the world," Cora tells her. "But you wanted silly things like stable boys and love under the stars. I tried to make you strong and powerful, you did everything you could to destroy me, to remove me from your life. Now, perhaps you understand the absurdity of your attempt. Now, perhaps you understand, my dear girl that I will always find you. Always."

She's heard these words before, knows that they come from the mouths of those with true love in their heart. Apparently, they can also be bastardizes to come from those with hearts filled with hatred.

She turns her head away from her mother, and that's when she sees the green eyes watching her. The eyes that belong to someone who shouldn't be in this cabin with them. Shouldn't be anywhere close to them.

"Emma," she whispers, a small smile crossing her lips.

And then there's darkness again.

* * *

Emma wakes with a loud shout, jerking forward and into the sitting position. She places a hand over her hammering heart, willing it t slow and calm.

"Emma?" Snow asks, arm around her. Charming is there a second later, and nearby, she can see Mulan standing, sword out and at the ready.

"Nightmare?" her dad asks, worry contorting his handsome face.

"No," the blonde replies with a shake of her head.

"You screamed," Snow points out. "That's usually not the sign of a good dream."

"I mean it wasn't a dream. Not exactly anyway." She pushes herself to her feet, makes her way over to where Mulan is, and addresses the warrior directly. "Do you know of a windowless cabin anywhere around here?"

After a moment of thought, and a tightening of muscles, Mulan nods slowly in response. "I do. There's a cabin a few miles away from here. It's old, and supposedly haunted by dark magic."

"I'm sure it is," Emma answers. She turns back to her parents. "That's where Cora has Regina. That's where we have to go. Now."

"What are you talking about?" Snow demands. "How could you know that?"

"Because I was just there with her," Emma answers, looking around for her jacket. "I don't know how or why, but I know it was real. I saw her with Cora in that cabin. And I know that if we didn't get to her immediately, the only thing we'll be bringing home to Henry is her body." She meets Snow's eyes, then Charming's and then Snow's eyes again. "Trust me," she says. "Please."

"We do," Snow answers. "Mulan, I know you have no desire to save this woman after all the things she's done, but we need your help to find this cabin."

"It will be difficult in this storm."

"But?" Emma prompts, hope shining in her eyes.

"But doable. I will take you."

"Thank you," Snow says softly, touching the warriors' arm.

"No thank you is needed. I just hope that you are right about the queen being worthy of this rescue."

"So do I," Emma admits. She pulls on her jacket, lifts up a sword and then turns to her parents. Smiling a bit, she asks, "Is there a war cry for the first time you go into battle with your mom and dad?"

"Not really," Charming chuckles.

"Just live," Snow corrects.

Emma nods at this. "I plan to. I plan for everyone to."

* * *

Once again caught within a feverish dream state, Regina Mills – the Evil Queen of myth and legend - feels no pain. Oddly, though, she finds herself watching what is occurring several miles away from her, within the cold dark cavern beneath the tall trees of the Enchanted Forest. She hears their words, hears Emma insisting to the others that they must find the former mayor, and she wonders what the hell they're all thinking.

They should be on their way back to Henry. Instead, they're coming for her.

She feels a flutter in her heart, and she wonders what it means.

She'd intended to sacrifice herself to ensure that the others would make it home. Now, though, with Emma's voice ringing in her ears, and the Calvary supposedly on its way, she realizes that she actually wants to live.

She wants to see Henry again.

She wants to be alive to work for his forgiveness, and to hopefully, receive it.

Which means enduring her mother for as long as it takes.

It's the only way to survive this.

And survive, she decides with a small smile, she will.

It's what she's always done.

**TBC…**


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Apologies for the long delay - PC file issues. Many thanks, and enjoy the read. Have faith.

* * *

By the time the party of four has walked five hundred yards, each member of the group is soaking wet. By the time they've hiked three miles through the freakishly dark woods, they're all drenched to the bone and shivering.

Even Mulan. And yet, the proud dark-haired woman says not a word in protest. She's a warrior, a soldier used to following orders that she might not agree with.

This is one of those for sure. The very idea that they are questing to rescue a woman responsible for so much pain and so much death is absurd to her. This is a person who back in her war days would have been executed as soon as possible. In those days, valuable time and resources would not have been spent on explaining or understanding the actions of the Evil Queen.

Justice (not vengeance, she tells herself, though even she understands that the lines here would likely blur with ease) would have demanded a quick (and yes, of course, bloody) resolution and immediate closure.

It's clear to her that the rest of her party – especially Emma – sees things far differently. They plan to rescue and help the queen.

Save her, even.

Again, absurd.

Still, here she is. For reasons that Mulan can't quite understand, she knows that it her duty to guide and protect these people. Yes, they are royalty and she would acquiesce out of simple respect for their titles, but it's more than that. These are good people, and this land desperately needs people like this.

People who still have hope in their hearts.

Mulan isn't by nature a naïve or idealistic woman. At least not anymore. Perhaps, very long ago, there was a time when she was, but those days have long since passed thanks to the haze and fog of war. Her youth is buried beneath blood and pain and the metallic clash of swords.

These three are different. They still believe in the power of love and hope. And maybe even redemption. Whether any of that is actually possible for the former queen, the warrior woman knows not, but just the mere possibility keeps her feet moving. Even as her brain insists that this quest is a foolish one.

* * *

It's like being fifteen all over again. Much to her dismay (not so much horror anymore, to be honest, she's gone through far too much to be frightened by a trick of gravity), she's up in the air, suspended high above her gloating mother. It's an annoying magical gimmick, one meant to apply control. It's strictly amateur hour, and yet it's wildly effective as a means to abuse and torture.

The unfortunate and unavoidable truth is that especially here in the old world, her mothers' magic is far stronger than her own. Perhaps there had been a time before Storybrooke when her own power would have been comparable, maybe even superior, but now, even with the magic that had helped her to open the portal still spilling through her bloodstream, Regina is still dramatically underpowered comparatively.

Add to that the fact that almost all of the energy that she had pulled into herself had been used to rip open the portal, and well, she's about as strong as she was when she'd first started training with Rumplestilskin oh so many years ago.

Unfortunately, Cora seems to realize this.

Regina feels herself lift up even higher, feels the pressure on her bones increase again, and then suddenly she's back on the dirt and dust covered ground. She hears her mother laugh, like this is all just some kind of silly game to her.

It is, Regina knows. It always has been.

"Are you ready, darling?" Cora asks her, her voice almost bored sounding.

"Ready for what, Mother?" Regina grinds out as she rolls over to face her mother, blinking back both blood and tears. She hates that there's water in her eyes, but the violent pain jack-knifing through her body refuses to allow her any dignity.

This is some kind of hell.

But, she thinks to herself bitterly, that's nothing new for her. Her whole life has been different degrees and flavors of torture and pain. It's been one heartbreak after another. She's felt herself shatter so many times, what's once more?

"To come home to me," Cora says with a smile that on any other human would almost like happy. On Cora Mills, it looks like pure evil.

"That's what all of this has been about?" Regina asks with disbelief. She studies Cora's face, examining it for any sign of what the older woman's ultimate plan might be. She finds none, her mother as coldly unreadable as always.

It occurs to her with a sharp start just how much of her mother she had incorporated into herself over the years.

The stony detachment. The icy core. The blackened heart and soul.

The furious hatred for everyone and everything around her.

"Oh no, my dear child, all of this…" she flicks her hand towards Regina, sending a sharp spark of light hurling into her daughters' ribcage. "…has been about punishing you for your actions against me," Cora finishes with a humorless laugh. "You betrayed your own mother, Regina. Such a crime is not easily forgiven."

Bent over in pain, the brunette whispers in response, "Add it to my list."

Perhaps not the best choice of answers because a moment later, she's back in the air, once again desperately gasping for air. She sees black dots dancing in front of her eyes, and finds herself wondering if she's about to pass out again.

"So I've heard," Cora replies in the most bored tone that she can pull up. "Though I've also heard how you failed miserably at even the easy task of vengeance."

And then she tosses Regina back to the floor, listening with a wide smile as her daughters' body connects with the dirty ground with a loud crash and a harsh grunt. Regina winces as she rolls herself over, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "I suppose I did," the brunette finally answers between sharp dry coughs.

"Indeed. But fortunately for you, I've chosen to forgive you."

Regina looks up at her mother, surprise shining in her dark eyes. "You have?"

"Of course. You are my daughter."

"My broken ribs say otherwise."

"The price of love," Cora says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"We clearly have very different ideas of the word 'love'," Regina replies, her dark eyes glittering dangerously. Anyone else would be afraid of her right now, scared of just what terrible thing she might do. Her mother just stares back at her.

"Enough of your silly rebellion. Stand up and face me."

It's a streak of morbid curiosity that makes Regina oblige and force herself to her feet. She's under no illusions here; her mother is a cruel and heartless sociopath utterly incapable of benevolent human emotions. Whatever this is, it's about power and not affection. It's about control and not love.

Still, she wants to know what her mother is up to. And keeping her talking helps to waste time until the rescue party arrives – assuming that they're still coming, of course. While she'd like to be sure of it, she's been let down too many times in the past. Add to that the reality that she doesn't actually deserve a save and well, it's hard to fault her for her doubts and fears.

For now, though, she pushes these dangerous emotions away, focuses instead on her mother. Slowly, the former queen rises, coughing as she does so. She faces Cora then, eyes up, refusing to yield anymore than she already has. This, too, she knows to be an illusion. If Cora wants to destroy her once more, well then her mother will be able to do so and with relative ease.

"Good," Cora nods sharply. "At least you still have some pride."

"I have a lot of pride, Mother," Regina retorts. "All of which has brought me here."

"I see you also have a lot of cheek. That's brought you here as well."

"True," Regina answers with a tired sigh. She's exhausted and hurting. Every part of her aches or burns. She can only imagine how many – too many, she thinks - broken bones or torn muscles she has.

Some might say not nearly enough.

So many things to pay for. So many things that she will never pay enough for.

"But I think that we can put that all of that behind us now, "Cora announces with an impatient wave of her hand. "We can be the mother and daughter team that we were always meant to be. We can rule this land together."

Regina tilts her head, a small smile forming on her lips. "Your time in Wonderland clearly didn't do wonders for your sanity, Mother. There's no chance that I would ever team with you for anything." She meets Cora's eyes when she says this, daring her mother to disregard her words as easily as she had been able to do so very many years ago. Back when she'd been just a young frightened girl.

"You surprise me, Regina. I would have thought that after so much failure that you would be ready to take hold of victory by whatever means necessary."

"Apparently not."

"Fine, then I won't ask."

"Excuse me?" She feels fear streak through her.

"You heard me; if you won't partner with me willingly, then you will do so because you love your son." She spits out the word "love" with clear disgust. "Because you love your precious little Henry." She smirks as she finishes her sentence, amused to see the look of horror cross her daughters' pale face.

"No," Regina whispers. "I won't let you –"

"I have no desire to hurt the boy," Cora interrupts. "He's of no consequence to me. He's not even of our bloodline." She sneers in disgust when she says this.

"Then why do you care about him?"

"I don't. I care about you."

"You'd hurt him just to control me?" her voice is low, and even to her own ears, she sounds like that silly abused girl again. She sounds weak and powerless.

It's horrifying.

"I'd do anything to have you with me," Cora counters.

"What do you want from me, Mother?" the suddenly quite weary and defeated brunette asks. "Just tell me and be done with it. No more games."

"Have you not been listening, Regina?" Cora sighs impatiently. "I want us to work together to rule this land. Absent all of the kings and queens, the only order left is power. Between the two of us, we can establish dominance."

"We can rule with fear," Regina says quietly, like what she's saying is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Exactly. You remember what that felt like," Cora smiles.

"I do." Regina looks up at her mother. "I remember it well. It was lonely and cold. It's why I cast the Dark Curse. Why would I want to go back to that?"

"Because you were strong."

"That strength was a lie."

"Then lie to yourself again."

"I don't really have a choice do I?" Regina asks, her voice shaking. She doesn't know if it's fear or pain causing the tremors. Hardly matters anyway. She is once again completely trapped. So much for the grand incoming rescue.

"No, you don't. Here's the deal, my beloved daughter; stand with me and I promise you that no harm will ever come to your child. Rebuild this world with me, and when the time is right, we will bring him –"

"No!" Regina yells. Then, much quieter. "No. You want me to do this, fine, but the deal is that Henry is forever off the table. He's never to be touched, never to be spoken of. You forget him. I…I forget him. Understood?"

She feels her soul shredding ever as she says the words, but they feel right. She can't protect herself, but maybe she can ensure Henry is safe. And perhaps in doing so, she'll finally – indirectly – prove her love for and to him.

"As long as you keep your part of the deal, I see no reason to waste time on the boy," Cora agrees. "But I warn you, should you betray me again, I will tear his heart out and crush it into dust before your eyes. Do we have an understanding?"

"We do," the brunette whispers.

"Excellent. Then lift up your eyes and stop crying about your pathetic sorrows and regrets. They're all behind you now. Only glory and power await us."

"If you say so," Regina replies. She's finding the words harder to come by, and idly, she wonders if that's due to the pain in her body or the sadness in her heart.

"I do," Cora nods. "After you complete your first task, we can start discussing how to take down all of the Dark Lords. It will take skill and a great deal of magical power so we'll need to let you heal up a bit first."

"Wait. My first task?" Regina asks, her heart heavy with dread. "Pray tell, Mother, what would that be?"

Cora smiles widely, pure evil sparkling like joy in her glittering dark eyes. "Killing the Savior when she comes to rescue you, of course. And unless I'm mistaken – and I'm not - I believe, my dear girl, that she's just arrived."

* * *

"There," Mulan says, pointing towards a small little cabin. It's completely enclosed, showing absolutely no sign of an entrance nor a way for anyone to escape from within. "Legend says that only those of dark energy can enter."

"How true are the legends?" Emma asks. "I mean, are they like they are in my world where they're usually bullshit spread by bored kids or do they actually mean something here?"

"Hard to say," Mulan admits. "Perhaps three decades ago, there was real power here, but ever since the curse, magic has…"

"Changed," Emma sighs, looking over at her bewildered looking parents. "Seems like your world everything in your world is different now."

"Seems like," Snow admits, her eyes narrowed with worry. She's not thrilled about this plan, not terribly pleased that they're chasing after the woman who has caused her and her family so much pain, but she also knows that Emma isn't about to change her mind on this. Not now and likely not ever. "Still, there must be some kind of magic present here because I don't see a way inside."

"Unless the entrance is from beneath," Charming suggests.

"A tunnel?" Emma proposes, frowning a bit as she looks around. Her eyes scan across the floor of the forest, looking for a possible entrance. It's hard to make out much of anything thanks to the rain and darkness, but she tries anyway.

"No tunnels to be found, dear. Your mother was right," a familiar voice says, the tone unusually shaky with emotion. "Magic is needed to get inside. But don't worry yourself, I'll come to you."

Emma's head snaps up, green eyes widening as she takes in a whirl of black smoke suddenly spinning around in the air in front of the small rescue party. After a few seconds, she sees Regina standing about ten feet in front of her, near the wall of the windowless cabin. The former queen is dressed exactly as she had been previously – though Emma can see that these clothes are now destroyed with blood and dirt. There's an odd expression on her face.

It looks almost like heartbreak.

"Regina," Emma breathes. "You're all right."

"I am, Miss Swan." Her eyes snap to Charming, and for a moment, Emma thinks she sees fury spark up there. "You stupid man," she hisses, her hands balled tightly as anger winds it's way through her clearly badly wounded frame. "Your only job was to take your family home. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass," Snow replies, stepping in front of her stunned husband. He clearly hadn't expected Regina to be angry to have a rescue party coming to her.

"I didn't ask you or your obnoxious spawn to do so," Regina retorts. "I never asked for anything from any of you. And yet once again, because you insufferable heroes know best, you ruin everything. You destroy everything."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Emma demands of the emotional brunette. In the dream that had begun this late night rescue mission, it'd been clear to her that Regina had needed the assistance, even requested it, but now, the former queen seems oddly enraged by it.

Which pings all kinds of wrong.

A moment later, she realizes exactly why.

"Your Highness," Mulan says softly, speaking to Snow. "The witch is here." She points behind Regina. Sure enough, standing a few feet behind her clearly distraught daughter is the smug and smirking form of Cora Mills.

"Regina, we need to go right the hell now," Emma tells her, desperation peppering her tone. She reaches her hand out to the former queen. "Come on."

"She's not going anywhere, darling," Cora says stepping forward. "And neither are you." And with that, she lifts up a hand and throws an ice-cold bolt of light right at Emma's chest. The blonde barely has enough time to react, only managing to move herself enough not to tale a direct hit to the chest.

As it is, she ends up flying backwards, nearly knocking her parents down.

It'd be hysterical if it didn't hurt so damned much.

"Regina," she gasps, looking up at woman whom she'd put her life on the line for. She feels Mulan place a hand on her arm, and quickly shrugs the warrior away from her. Ignoring the loud and angry protests of her newly-found parents, she stands back up and once again approaches (though with a bit more caution this time), coming within five feet of Regina. "Whatever she is making you do…"

"You don't understand what true power feels like, Miss Swan," Regina interrupts quickly. She knows that she needs to get Emma away from thinking of her as someone that needs to be saved. The blonde needs to view the former queen as her attacker, and she needs to fight back accordingly. At least for now. "And you never will. You should have gone home when you had the chance. Now, my dear, you're all out of chances."

She lifts her hand up then, forming a barrier of energy around her and Emma. It takes up almost all of the energy that she has within her, but no one out there needs to know that. No one else needs to know how weak she is.

Not yet anyway.

"You don't have to do this," Charming insists, stepping up to the barrier. He's starting to get really sick and tired of these force fields "I know you don't want to."

Her eyes snap towards the man. "You know nothing about me, Charming. Nothing. Don't assume otherwise."

"Regina, please," Snow whispers. "Please." Her eyes water. She knows damned well that her daughter – as brave as she is – is no match for two powered up witches. She's no match for Regina if the brunette wants her dead. "Please don't take her from me again."

"Be silent, Snow. I've heard enough from you. Never again."

And then she throws a bright bolt of light directly into Emma's very shocked face. It hits the blonde squarely, forcefully, once again dropping her to her knees.

* * *

It's the weirdest damned thing. One moment, Snow and Mulan and Charming are watching Regina throws circular bolts of light towards Emma and the next, they see nothing at all. It's almost like a bright white screen has been thrown over the life and death fight that they know is occurring.

Across the way, Cora watches with the same angry frustration.

Snow screams for her daughter.

Screams for help.

And all Charming can do is hold her.

* * *

"I don't understand," Emma whispers as she watches Regina approach her, the older woman glowing a bright purple. None of this makes any sense, but the one thing that she can't seem to escape is the realization that she's about to die at the hands of the woman she'd tried to save. So much for the value of good turns.

"That's because you don't have hate in your heart like I do, Miss Swan," Regina replies, taking a position right above the blonde. "And I hope you never do."

"What?" Emma gasps. She shakes her head to try to clear the cobwebs away. The bolt that Regina had hit her with had been stunning, but ultimately not painful. It'd been meant to temporarily blind her instead of hurt her.

Which tells Emma that Regina is up to something. The question is what?

"I have no choice," Regina says softly. "I made a deal with my mother. I will return to her and take over this world with her. In exchange, she'll leave Henry alone. That's the deal." She shakes her head, her gaze softening as she takes in the confusion written across Emma's face. "But I know myself. I know what will happen to me once I gain power again – that kind of power. I'll go for Henry myself and I will destroy everything there is in order to get to him. That…that cannot be allowed to happen. Do I make myself clear?"

"No."

"We don't have time for your denseness. I need you to be the smart woman I know you are, Emma," Regina insists. "Please."

"You want me to kill you," Emma announced, understanding flooding through her.

"I do."

"No. No, I won't."

"If you don't, I will kill you and then both of your parents, and then I will bring Henry back here. Do you know what will happen to him here? With my mother."

"You'd protect him."

"You know better," Regina answers sadly. "We are where we are right now because I couldn't protect him. This is all I have left, but I need your help."

Emma thinks about arguing with the former queen, thinks about debating her words about Henry, but something inside of her tells her that there isn't time to do so. After a long tense moment, the blonde woman replies quietly, "Assuming I agreed to this idiotic plan of yours, once you were…gone, how would we get away from your very pissed off mother? How would we get home?"

"Good questions," Regina nods, seeming somewhat relieved to have Emma on the same track as her. "You're going to kill me with a power surge. The same type I used to create the initial portal over here. The surge will be too much for me to take a second time in one day. It'll overload me, which should be more than enough to rip open another hole between our two worlds. The moment it opens, you take your family through and you go the hell home."

"I thought you could only open holes where previous thin walls existed?"

"Typically, but where we are now – on this land- is enchanted, just not by dark magic like everyone assumes. Without going deep into the story, what you need to know is that it responds to the voice of desperate souls. In this case, mine."

"I still don't understand."

Regina shakes her head in frustration. "It doesn't matter. All that does matter is this: I'm a horrible woman, Miss Swan. All of the hopes and prayers and faith in this world or any other can't change that reality. After all of the terrible things that I've done, redemption isn't a possibility."

"Yes, it is…"

"Be silent," Regina snaps impatiently. "My mother by now surely knows that I'm up to something. She'll be trying to break down this wall. If we're to be successful in protecting Henry, this needs to be over by then. I need to be over by then."

"No…"

"Our son…my son is all that matters to me anymore. Once I'm gone, she has no need of him. He means nothing to her. As long as I'm alive, though…please, let me do this for him. Please let me protect him this once. Please, Emma."

"This isn't right."

"I know," Regina whispers, her cheeks glistening with tears that she's just begun to shed. "I need you to close your eyes, dear. In a moment, I'm going to touch you, and I'm going to try to pull all of the power within you into myself. It's going to feel a bit like you're on fire. Once the sensations fade, as exhausted and nauseous as you're going to feel, you'll need to find the strength to move. Time will be short, but you should be able to surprise my mother because her attention will be on me. Do you understand now?"

"I do," Emma assures her. "But…" she starts to open her mouth again to protest but Regina shakes her head, immediately silencing her.

"Then close your eyes."

Reluctantly, tears streaming down her cheeks, Emma does as told. She feels hands upon her face then, almost impossibly soft and tender.

"Promise me," she hears, "That when Henry's old enough to be willing to hear it that you'll make sure he knows how much I loved him. Promise me that you'll make sure he understands that he was the one good thing in my life."

"I promise."

"Thank you."

Emma hears the brunette inhale sharply – the sound made harsher by the broken bones the former queen is clearly suffering from – and then suddenly, she feels the warmth that she'd been warned about. Only it's more like red-hot fire boiling up from within her. It races through her blood like liquid lava, and for a moment, Emma Swan wishes that she were dead.

She screams in pain.

So does Regina.

And then there's an explosion as the portal tears open.

**TBC…**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Thanks again for the kind words.

We're almost at the end of this little tale now, maybe 1-2 more chapters to go after this one. Thanks for hanging in with me.

Please be forewarned, I'm going to play with your emotions like a hackie sack in the chapter to come.

* * *

_Regina feels like she's floating in mid air._

_Hardly a unique feeling in the history of afterlives, but it's certainly a new experience for her. This is a woman who has mastered dark magics as old as the world (that of Fairytale Land at least) itself, and yet she's never actually really floated more than a foot or two above the earth. She's hovered and skimmed, but never just light as air almost weightlessly floated._

_Right now, she's certain that she is. Surprisingly, it feels rather good._

_Nothing hurts, nothing aches._

_So this is death?_

_Can't be, she thinks. It's too peaceful, and she hardly deserves such._

_She's warm – but not hot – and comfortable. She feels almost completely content. She tries to look around, but there's nothing to see. There's just an absence of well, everything. She tries to remember why she's here or at least how she'd gotten to this strange place, but for the time being at least, her mind is simply fogged over with white. There's a voice in her head telling her not to fight it, just simply give in and allow the peace. Stop struggling for once._

_Let go._

_It's the fear that prevents this. Fear that if she does just let go, the almost silky peace that she feels will slip and slide away and become the hell she truly deserves. It's inevitable, she believes, but that unholy force within her that has always fought – both for good and for bad – decides to do so again. _

_It tells her – no, orders her - that she must not surrender_

_She wants to. She wants so badly not to hurt anymore._

_It tells her to fight._

_She doesn't want to. She just wants peace._

_It reminds her of what awaits, reminds her of the fears of what is to come._

_She insists that she's tired, so very tired._

_The force – her broken frightened heart, she thinks - laughs cruelly at her and pushes her forward._

_She fights on._

* * *

Emma Swan thinks that maybe – just maybe – this is taking the whole Savior thing to ridiculous extremes. She understands the concept of White Knights and gallant heroes who never fail to fight and win (even if she still struggles against the idea that she is either of those things), but this is absurd. And getting decidedly more so by the moment, if she's completely honest with herself.

She's glowing – actually glowing – a bright purplish when she finally steps out of the weird bubble of light that had exploded around she and Regina just moments earlier. Her movement are slow and halted, like she's stepping through wet mud, but she's determined and focused, unwilling to stop. She lifts her hand to her brow as if to shield her eyes, but it's a fairly wasted gesture in the grand scheme of things. The rain that continues to fall has gotten harder and the wind whipping through the dark green trees has become more ferocious, making it almost impossible to figure out what the hell is happening around her.

Blinking, she upwards, trying to see if a portal has indeed formed.

Trying to see if Regina's dramatic sacrifice had been worthwhile.

Please, she thinks to herself. Please don't let her have died in vain.

She turns back towards where Regina's frighteningly still body lies. To her great relief, Emma sees a swirl of dark purple smoke there, growing thicker and deeper with each passing moment. It's the portal.

It's the way home.

"Emma," she hears someone screaming. The sound is distant, as if coming from far away, but instinctively, she knows that the person is actually quite close by. She glances to her side and sure enough, sees Snow standing there, slightly bent over, squinting against the bright assault of the energy bubble. Charming is kneeling down next to her, a streak of crimson running down his cheek from a cut somewhere up in his temple. From the looks of his face and the surrounding areas, it seems as though the energy explosion had thrown some debris around.

"She opened up a portal," Emma calls back, her voice catching as she tries to make it heard over the sound of the rain and wind. She gestures towards the swirl of smoke. "We have to go through that. It's our way home." She prays that Snow will just trust her here and not ask questions that they don't have time for.

Questions that will very likely get them killed if they don't act quickly.

Somewhere nearby, Emma can feel Cora moving, adapting, understanding. She knows very little about Regina's mother still, but her experience in the coldness of the foster system has taught her much about manipulative and corrosive personalities such as Cora. It's taught her more than she ever cared to know about abusers like Cora. The woman is smart, cruel and vicious. She also believes that she owns her daughter completely.

Things are not going to go well for anyone once she learns that this control has been – forever – destroyed. Emma assumes after the explosion of energy – and based on the absolute stillness of the brunette's form – that Regina has passed on. She tries not to think about this, tries not to face the feelings of guilt and sadness raging through her. There will be time to mourn and deal later.

She flicks her eyes back over to her parents, watching as they exchange a look of understanding between them (how weird to see, she thinks, how in touch with each other these two are, how much they know the other one and their thoughts), and then turn towards Mulan. Snow asks her something, her words getting lost in the rain. The warrior woman shakes her head in the negative, and then draws her sword. She hands it to Charming, says something and then steps away.

"We have to go now," Emma yells, not wishing to rush the clear goodbye, but knowing that they simply don't have the luxury of it. She'd like to offer gratitude to the dark haired woman who'd hiked with them through dark woods and fought beside them in spite of her reservations about their mission, but such words require calm and right now, with the portal growing larger, there simply isn't any.

"Stop," she hears, and she knows without seeing that Cora is suddenly on the move again, striding towards her, towards the portal.

Towards Regina.

It's weird how frantic Emma suddenly feels about keeping Cora away from the former queen's body. Cora has done enough to her daughter. No more.

She steps back and drops down next to Regina, hovering slightly over her body. She doesn't touch her or check on her (she thinks maybe she doesn't want to actually verify Regina's death), just tries to present a shield of protection. She then reaches down and pulls the knife from her hip and points it at Cora. She's aware that the magic that Cora possesses far outstrips the threat of a blade, but there's something about the swirling energy around her that makes Emma bold.

Something that makes her feel like she could snap her fingers and kill Cora.

It's a darkly sickening feeling, actually, but though she thinks it might be smart to, she doesn't shy away from it. Not right now. While she doesn't understand much of this world, she understands enough to know that she needs the power flowing through her right now, needs it to ensure that her newly discovered family makes it home. Needs it to ensure that the body of Henry's mother does as well.

"You're not going anywhere, you little bitch," Cora tells her before she throws a fireball her way. It takes Emma a moment to realize what's occurring, and her first instinct is to duck away from the inferno, which surely, had the aim been true, would have done absolutely nothing to prevent her from getting lit up.

Thankfully, the fireball bounces right off of her and shoots harmlessly away, melding back into the icy wetness of the night with little else but a faint puff of dark smoke. She allows for a moment of amusement when she sees the baffled expression on Cora's face. "Missed," she quips. That she'd just basically enacted her own defensive shield is something that Emma prefers not to think about.

"You fool," Cora growls.

"I've been called worse," Emma sighs. Her eyes flicker back towards her parents again, and she's relieved to see them finally moving her way.

"You think your little magic tricks can save you, girl? You killed my daughter."

It takes Emma a moment to absorb the words. They sound like something out of a bad mafia movie, but then she's quickly come to realize that much of the world that she'd been born into sounds like this. It's melodramatic and preposterous.

It's also unbelievably real.

"No, you did that yourself, Cora," Snow snaps back as she and Charming slide down beside Emma. Charming has Mulan's sword out now and is pointing it, daring the witch to come at them. Emma feels Snow's icy cold hand slide into hers. A quick glance back and she sees Mulan moving away, understanding that once the portal closes, Cora is likely to be quite furious and staying around to fight just to do so is simply the mark of stupidity as opposed to bravery.

The warrior is fleeing. Living to fight another day. Emma allows for a brief prayer in her head, pleads that the woman makes it back to the safe haven safely. And then she returns her focus back to the furious woman in front of her.

"Snow, the portal," Charming prompts suddenly, his urgent tone making Emma turn to look at the swirling opening. It's at its full height now, she knows, which means that soon it will begin to shrink again. They'd damn well better be through it by the time it does or there's no other way home. "We need to…"

"Get going," Snow finishes for him. She shakes her head at Cora. "Whatever this field is around us, you can't get through."

"That may be so for now, but be sure of this, dear Snow: I will find a way over to your happy little world eventually," Cora promises. "And when I do, I will make all of you pay for what happened here today."

"Then I guess we'll be waiting, won't we?" Charming replies, fury sparking in his blue eyes. He then looks towards Snow and Emma. "Go."

Snow starts to move, but is stopped by a sharp almost urgent squeeze of the hand from Emma. "She comes with us," the blonde says, eyes dropping towards the former queen's body. "We're not leaving her behind with that woman." Then, though she suspects that it's quite unnecessary to do so, she adds, "Please."

Snow simply nods her head, too tired to fight her daughter and too conflicted to actually come up with a reason why she should. "Charming."

She needn't have said his name; he's already bending down, and with one graceful motion, he lifts up Regina's body into his arms, and pulls it close to him. It takes everything he has not to stop for a moment and look down with sadness at the tiny not so imposing anymore woman lying in his arms.

It takes even more not to show his surprise at the desperately labored heartbeat he feels thudding softly against his own chest.

* * *

_She's starting to feel sensations again._

_Beyond warmth and comfort and calm that is. She feels pain fear and anger and doubt. She could do without all of these corrosive soul destroying emotions, but honestly, they've been dark passengers of hers for so long now that she's not all that surprised that they signed up for this final journey as well._

_There's a new sensation she feels after a few moments. It takes her a long while to understand it because it feels like something she's never experienced before._

_It feels like she's been carried._

_Like she's in someone's arms, being held tight. Being protected._

_The warmth she feels radiating through her body is intensifying, growing, and becoming almost painfully uncomfortable. A few seconds later and she feels like her body is raging with white-hot fire. She's starting to hurt again._

_She'd cry if she could._

_She can't._

_She keeps on fighting, but even she knows she's losing this battle._

* * *

The portal tears open in the middle of City Hall, its edges exploding outwards and lighting much of the room on fire. Dark purple smoke fills the room, thick and cloying, almost suffocating in its intensity.

Four bodies come flying through, not a one of them settling with any degree of grace. The only who manages to not end up sprawled out on their ass completely is Charming, and that's simply because he's suddenly become very focused on the woman in his arms.

"It's closing," Emma says, yelling over the sound of the portal. It occurs to her that she's not likely to have much of a voice when this is all over.

And then it occurs to her that she's home.

The portal snaps shut with an angry popping finality, leaving its' exhausted passengers with the fire behind them, and the silence around them. This lasts only a moment or so before there's a loud wailing noise – a fire alarm – and then sprinklers overheard turn on, coating the room in ice cold water.

From one storm to the next, apparently.

"Wonderful," Emma sighs.

"We're home," Snow breathes. She stands up, sweeps wet hair away from her face, and steps towards her daughter and husband. And then stops when she sees Charming looking down at the woman in his arms, his hand on her face.

"David?" Emma asks, moving towards him. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she has no idea what to expect here. She drops down next to him.

He looks over at her, and says ever so softly, "She's alive."

* * *

_The warmth has become unbearable heat. It's a lot like magic soaring through you only without any of the intoxicating effects. This doesn't feel good at all._

_This feels like dying without the calm of it._

_She's been carried again, she realizes, and whoever it is that is holding her is strong. Certainly male. Perhaps Charming, she thinks without further emotion. She tries to uses her senses to identify the person, but nothing is working._

_She fades in and out several times, losing connection to everything except for the bright white of the room (or whatever it is) around her. The pain comes and goes in lightning fast flashes, but when it comes, it almost destroys her._

_And then she feels cold._

* * *

The closest apartment to City Hall is the one that Snow and Emma have been sharing as roommates for the last six months of their lives. It's also the one that Charming has been squatting in for the last several weeks. That the living situation for all of them has clearly altered is a conversation for another day. One where they're not frantically rushing to save the life of the woman responsible for the fact that Snow and her daughter are essentially the same age.

Snow thinks for a moment that maybe they should all just slow down. Maybe let Regina pass on to the next world after finally having redeemed herself in this one through an act of pure sacrifice. She never says these thoughts aloud, however, knows that they wouldn't be welcomed. She sees the fear in Emma's eyes, recognizes the frantic need to be the Savior for well, everyone.

"She burning up," Charming announces with a frown as soon as they enter the loft apartment. Snow finds herself wondering again what it is that Regina has done to suddenly get her husband to champion her salvation. To fight for her life.

"We need to cool her down, try to break the fever," Emma says shortly, indicating towards the bathroom. "Is there any ice in the freezer?"

"Was when I was here yesterday," He frowns then. "I think I was here yesterday."

"Get it," Emma tells him. To Snow she says, "Help me with her."

Snow hesitates for only a moment, just a fraction of one, before sliding forward and helping Emma to take Regina's unconscious body away from Charming. It's when she feels the heat radiating off the older woman that her natural instincts about helping out whoever needs help kick in.

"I know you don't want to do this," Emma says suddenly, as they're laying Regina down on to the cold floor of the bathroom. "So thank you."

"There's been enough hate," Snow says. It's a simple answer, and not completely truthful, but Emma nods her head appreciatively.

How could Emma possibly know the depth of the pain between she and Regina?

"We need to uh…"

"Get her clothes off," Snow agrees. "You do that. I'll get the bath started and find out how the ice is coming along. If you're okay with that."

"She's unconscious," Emma smirks. "She can't bitch at me so yeah, I'm good."

"Right. I'll be right back." She stands then and exits the room, stopping outside just long enough to take a deep shuddering breath. So much has happened in such a ridiculously short amount of time. None of it feels sane.

This certainly doesn't.

And yet maybe her words had been right.

Maybe it is time to let go of the hate. She turns to look back into the bathroom, watching for a moment as Emma ever so gently removes the soaking wet clothes that still incase Regina's fever ravaged body. She can see now that the former queen is slightly trembling, her body lifting and falling even in Emma's arms.

She watches her daughter care for this woman and thinks about just how mad the world really is. How weird it is, too. Things like this shouldn't happen. You shouldn't be put into the situation of saving your enemy. Of having to be the better person. And yet even now, Snow finds herself needing to be that.

For the little idealistic girl that she'd been so very many years ago.

For the smiling teenager who'd saved her and taught her the meaning of love.

For all of the hurt and hate and anger that had festered between them.

Yes, she decides, it is to time to let it all go. Past time.

A soft cry from Regina's dry lips – the first sound they've heard from her since she'd collapsed back on the other side - reminds her of the situation at hand. Reminds her that her decisions and internal declarations don't matter right now.

All that matters is whether or not the former queen can make it through the night.

* * *

_The cold and heat she feels within her war against each other, each one taking a moment of victory before relinquishing to the other. The heat is stronger, though, cutting a violent swath through her already weakened body. This is fever, she knows, and it's ravaging her like a cruel thoughtless lover._

_Still, it's amazing that she's even alive to fight. Twice in the last two days, she's taken on an absurd amount of magical energy, pulling power into her body and then turning it around so as to open up world-hopping portals. Once was too much. Twice should have been certain death. She'd even accepted it as such._

_And yet here she is, continuing to fight._

_She hears sounds – herself, she realizes – of whimpering. Sounds of pain._

_She feels something against her face. Gentle, cool, wet._

_There's a voice speaking, but the words are unintelligible. They're calming, though, soft assurances. _

_And still she burns._

_The fight is almost over._

* * *

As the minutes and hours continue to tick by, and the former queen continues to shudder within the ferocious grip of her blazingly hot fever, Emma is starting to lose hope, starting to wonder about how to explain this all to Henry.

There are no simple words to tell someone that a person you love has passed on. There are even less ways to tell someone who is conflicted and angry that they'll never have a chance to make things right.

That they'll never have the change to apologize or to hear an apology.

Henry is only ten, almost eleven. He's an old soul.

He's not this old.

And if Regina passes tonight, there will come a day five years from now or maybe ten when Henry looks back and wonders if all of this could have been prevented. Sure, that's a tremendous weight for a child – and an unfair one – but the heart and soul rarely spare themselves pain and hurt simply because of logic.

Very simply, Emma knows for sure that if Regina dies because she thought the only way to win back her son's love (that no one would ever tell him this is irrelevant, Henry is a ridiculously smart boy and will certainly figure it out on his own) would be to sacrifice herself, well then Henry will take it very badly indeed.

It's not what she wants for her son.

It's not what Regina would want for her son, either.

"Fight," Emma whispers to the shaking blonde. "Please."

"She is," she hears her mother say as she enters the room with a cup of coffee in hand. She offers it to Emma, who gratefully accepts the warm liquid, inhaling its rich aroma with a sigh. "It's all she knows how to do. Even when she shouldn't."

Emma nods at that. Then, after a moment. "You were on the phone?"

"With everyone. I'm surprised we don't have a thousand people at our door," Snow chuckles. She's not gloating when she says this, but there's clearly some happiness over being missed. Just the same, she's exhausted and in no mood to explain what's happened this evening. Nor what's happening now.

"What about Henry? Were you able to check in on him?"

"I was. He's sleeping. I asked Red not to wake him."

Regina whimpers then, and cries out. Her words are just barely recognizable as such. Her fingers clutch at the blankets around her (she's lying in Emma's bed, the bed her son had so very recently been sleeping in), but fail to find purchase, simply slipping backwards towards her body a few seconds later.

"Have her wake him," Emma directs. When Snow tilts her head in question, the blonde adds softly, "I think he needs to be here."

"You don't believe that she's going to make it." It's a statement and not a question and suddenly there's no damned oxygen in the room. Snow shakes her head as much to show her dismay at the information as to keep tears from gathering in her eyes, "Why couldn't she have done this on the other side?"

"I don't know," Emma answers both questions at once, but the lines of her eyes say that she believes that the end is coming quickly. "What I do know is that if she doesn't make it, I don't want him having regrets. I want him to have the chance to say goodbye to her before it's too late. Before he can't."

"You think it'll actually help him deal with her loss? Saying goodbye?" Snow's eyes are wide and thoughtful, like she's somewhere in the past, wondering if having a chance to say those simple but heartbreaking words to her own father might have eased the grieving. Made the process hurt less.

"No," Emma answers, confirming Snow's thoughts. "Not anytime soon."

* * *

_The heat continues to mount, continues to burn, continues to purge. The cries that she's letting out now are strangled and pained. She twists and turns._

_She's afraid of what comes next, terrified of the horrific punishment that awaits._

_She can't promise an unseen force that she'll be better, kinder or more generous if it will allow her to live because she's lied to so many people now – including her self – that she struggles to understand what truth is anymore. _

_Is truth pain? Is it hurt? Is it love?_

_She'd long ago embraced the role of villain because it had allowed her to hurt others as much as she'd been hurt. It'd never felt good exactly, but it'd felt justified. It'd felt like the universe had balanced out just a bit._

_That, too, had been a lie._

_There's no balance for the loss of love. There's even less for the loss of your soul in pursuit of vengeance. She knows this now, has known it since the day she'd reached into that woman's chest and yanked out her heart._

_She'd known then that she'd been damned. She'd just lied to herself. _

_Now she wonders if it's finally time to pay for all the lies._

"_Mom," she hears then. Soft, shaky, pained. She doesn't know if he's actually there or if her mind is playing tricks on her. It doesn't matter._

_She whimpers his name, cries out for him. Apologizes because that's the one bit of truth still within her: he's her entire world, the one thing that matters. _

_She'd never meant to hurt him. _

_She's so sorry._

_She loves him._

_He says, "Don't leave me."_

* * *

He's ten and young, and this intolerably horribly wrong and screwed up, but here he is, sitting next to his dying mothers' bedside, tightly clutching her suddenly frail hand in much smaller one. His told is tight and frantic.

What Emma sees, though, what her eyes won't leave is the mark of the wraith imprinted upon Regina's palm. It's gruesome and ugly, and it's the very smallest of graces, but at least Regina won't go out that way.

"Mom," Henry says again, and then keeps saying it like it's a magic word.

Emma looks up towards the doorway, sees Charming and Snow standing there, the expressions on their faces grim and uncertain. She imagines that they're both wondering why this moment doesn't feel like victory. Why it hurts so badly.

She sees a tear trickle down Snow's cheek.

And still Henry pleads.

"Kid," Emma says softly.

"I'm not a kid," he answers gruffly, pushing her hand away. She settles it back on him anyway because she knows he'll need it soon enough. That she needs the contact right now is something she keeps to herself. He doesn't need the burden of her emotions, too. He doesn't need the weight of her pain to add to his own.

"Henry," Regina whimpers again, and though her eyes are suddenly open, she's not seeing anything or anyone. But she's calling out for her son.

And then she's not.

It's Regina's hand that tells the story. The one still clutched within Henry's tiny palm. Emma looks it, seeing first the limpness, and then the slow paling of the wraith's mark as it fades away. As it accepts that its' victim no longer lives.

Her hand tightens on Henry's shoulder, holding on hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises on the soft flesh. She fights back the need to leap to her feet and race into the bathroom. She fights the desire to run because she's spent her entire life trying to avoid this kind of emotion.

Henry barely notices.

He bends in towards Regina's body, his tears falling off his nose and splattering against her skin. "I'm sorry," the little boy whispers, the weight of the world crashing upon him as he thinks of a book and a bus and tries to smell apples.

Behind her, Emma hears Charming speaking to Snow, saying something calm and soothing, but they're just words, and right now Snow is close to inconsolable.

Because she's wanted this to happen for so very long and now that it has, she just wants to go back to that barn and to that hill and she wants to start all over.

"Mom," Henry says again and again. And then he leans forward and says the words that shouldn't mean anything anymore. The words that shouldn't save an Evil Queen's soul. "I love you," he tells her and presses his lips to her forehead.

Emma wonders if he knows what he's doing, wonders if he's doing it on purpose. She wonders if he thinks he can bring Regina back from the dead or if he's just a shattered child trying to say goodbye in the only way he knows how.

"Oh my God," she hears her mother say suddenly, her voice thick with tears.

And then she sees the light go ripping through the room, starting with Regina's wounded body. She thinks back to a hospital room that she'd been in only a few weeks earlier, thinks about her kissing Henry on the forehead and saying the same soft words to him that he'd just said to his adopted mother. Thinks about a different spray of light that had brought on the same result.

Apparently this town has more than one miracle in it.

And apparently this kid has enough love for more than just one mother in him.

Regina surges forward in the bed, her bloodshot brown eyes suddenly open and painfully aware. She looks at Henry in shock and disbelief, unable to comprehend what has just occurred. Unable to imagine that anyone could feel strongly enough for her to have pulled her out of Death's firm grasp.

"Henry," she gasps. "You? You kissed…you?"

He just smiles in response, his watery eyes glistening.

**TBC…**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Apologies for the long delay in concluding this tale. I don't anticipate a sequel, but I do consider this to be potentially a new beginning for both of the lovely ladies.**

**I want to thank you for all of your kind words of support along the way, and I hope that this conclusion - though definitely quite talky - is satisfactory. Again, thank you for all the reviews and follows. They are appreciated.**

**Mild note: there is some salty language within, but nothing you haven't heard before, I promise.**

* * *

True Love's Kiss is truly an amazing piece of magic.

It's so much more than that, though. It and it alone has the power to bring back a soul that has been lost to black magic (as long as the person isn't actually dead-dead, of course). It and it alone can reshape entire worlds and destroy curses. All with a force no stronger than that of the gentlest of kisses.

What it doesn't have the power to do, however, is heal a human body that has been badly damaged by dark magic. Experienced healers and those deeply gifted in the magics can do so, but not True Love's Kiss. This agonizing reality (and that of the fact that aside from her and Rumple – and Blue if the little winged twit can access her fairy dust, which she likely cannot – there are no true magic wielders in this realm) hits Regina far harder than she'd like when she attempts to sit up in her bed – no, Emma's bed, her mind corrects with a bit of a wry chuckle – after almost three straight days of restless and feverish slumber.

"Hey, there you are. Finally. Whoa, whoa. Hey, go slow, okay?" she hears as she winces, nearly doubles over, and then almost groans as agony cuts through her. Tears sparkle for a brief moment in her bloodshot eyes, but thankfully, refuse to fall. She tries to localize the pain, but quickly stops when she realizes that the hurt is coming from well…everywhere. The worst of it is in the middle of her ribcage, but she can feel sharp shooting darts stabbing her from just about every region of her lithe frame. She bites her lip for a moment, breathing deeply.

"Miss Swan," she grits out after a moment, her words tight and low. She can feel her throat rumble and ache beneath the effort used to eject any sound.

"I'm right here," the blonde answers, her tone sounding infuriatingly relieved. Like she actually cares. It's enough to put Regina on edge. "Good to have you back."

"I doubt that's true," Regina replies almost automatically. She blinks then, and with some reluctance, looks up and into the worried green eyes of Emma Swan.

"No, really. You scared the shit out of us," Emma tells her with a small shrug.

"Us being?" the brunette asks, all the while desperately trying to move the conversation away from the blatant concern that the irritating blonde woman is throwing her way. That much benevolent emotion is disconcerting for the former queen. She doesn't know what to make of it or what to do with it.

"Me and Henry."

"So I didn't imagine what happened then?"

"Are you asking me if he brought you back to life with a kiss?" Emma queries with a rather infuriating smirk. A thought – a rather violent one at that – goes through Regina's mind, but considering all that the blonde has done for her lately, it seems bad form to inflict pain upon her just for the sport and amusement of it.

"Yes," Regina grits out. "I suppose I am."

"Then, yes, Regina, I suppose he did."

"Must you always be so damned difficult?" the cranky brunette snaps out as she tries to shift her body so as to find a more comfortable position. Her memory of what had occurred a few days earlier is still fairly foggy, but she recalls enough to know that her mother had wounded her badly. So badly, in fact, that she'd lost consciousness several times. And then she'd done so several more times thanks to having pulled an almost ridiculous amount of magic into herself. Twice.

"Must you?" Emma challenges with a lift of her chin and an even almost obnoxiously White Knight like gaze. It's all terribly patronizing, but before Regina can say anything about it, the blonde sheriff follows up with, "Jesus, Regina, what the hell were you thinking? There had to be another way to open the portal."

"There wasn't. And to answer your question, Sheriff, I was thinking about my son," Regina answers, swallowing hard against the uncomfortable knot that has suddenly formed in the middle of her throat. "That's all I think about these days."

"And I get that, but…did you really think he'd want you to die to prove yourself?"

"I think," Regina starts, and then abruptly stops. For a moment, Emma wonders if the former queen is in too much pain to continue. Her suddenly closed eyes and the slight tremor of her hands certainly seem to suggest such, but then, finally the older woman continues with a soft almost whispered, "I think that after all the hideous things that I've done, I owed my son more proof than a simple apology."

"Death isn't much of an apology. It's a cop-out."

Regina's eyes snap open, and then she really does groan when she moves too quickly in the bed. She hadn't actually been intending to go anywhere, but she's suddenly quite anxious lying here, vulnerable and painfully exposed.

Unable to prevent herself from being judged. It's strange how much of her life has been about the avoidance of such. Even now when it seems that the time for judgment has finally arrived. Perhaps it's finally time to face the jury.

And yet she can't because doing so would mean actually admitting to everything.

So instead, with a hiss and darkened eyes, she replies with, "You think what I endured over there was copping-out, Miss Swan? Because let me be the first to assure you, my dear, most cop-outs are not quite so painful nor horrifying."

"Oh, I believe you. I watched every bit of it," Emma shoots back. Her jaw is set and her shoulders squared. It's clear that even though Regina is tired, hurt and not really up for this argument, Emma plans to have it.

It's also quite clear that the blonde Savior is pissed.

An oddly attractive look for the woman, Regina muses for the briefest of moments. And then she snaps back to the present, lets her lips curl into a sneer, and answers with, "Then I would think that you of all people, Miss Swan, would agree that I did not take the cowards' way out as you are so foolishly insinuating."

"And what I think is that you've called me 'Miss Swan' three times within the last few minutes, which means that you're in your defensive posture." Emma holds up her hand to stop the former mayor from responding. "I also think that you – of all people – probably considered the pain a small price to pay for a quick exit stage left from everything else. Including your responsibility for what you did."

It's a bit galling how well the blonde Savior knows her, Regina thinks, but of course, she has no intention of admitting that. With a quick breath, she pours ice into her voice and coldly answers, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"In the course of two days, you tried to die no less than three times."

"Clearly, my attempts at what you believe to be suicide were about as effective as my attempts to get you out of my life were." This, too, is delivered without emotion. It's meant to sound indifferent, like she's discussing dinner plans.

If only Emma would just play along for once and go the hell away. She won't.

"Clearly," Emma repeats dryly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you had a death wish. It doesn't change the fact that you thought dying to save my mother and I would make Henry forgive you for the things you've done." She tilts her head then. "But then again, it kind of worked, didn't it? He did forgive you."

Regina snorts in disgust. "I think the dye you use to keep your hand blonde is going to your brain, dear, if that's really what you believe I was doing. Is it?"

"Yes."

"You're an idiot," Regina hisses. She could say so much more right now, but frankly, her anger at even the thought of what Emma thinks she did is rendering her just about mute. It's utterly preposterous, and were she in charge of her senses, Regina is certain that she'd have flash-fried the blonde by now.

At least with her mouth since she's guessing that magic is lost to her again.

Emma laughs at the insult. It's an odd sound that startles Regina more than she cares to admit. She blames the weakness of her body for how jumpy and anxious she is. She tells herself that were she stronger, she'd be her usual wall of steel.

Problem is, it's been awhile since she's been that wall of steel.

Not since Emma had shown up in Storybrooke, anyway.

"I've been told that," Emma admits. "But I'm not the one who decided to mainline enough magic to kill a normal person, and then, severely weakened, did it again."

"I had no choice. Why is that so damned difficult for you to understand?"

"It's not difficult at all. I just… it's always this way with you isn't it, Regina?"

"Miss Swan, I'm extremely tired and sore, and right now, I would just about kill anyone – including you - for a handful of painkillers or maybe an entire bottle of whiskey so please, get to your point before I do exactly that."

"Fine, my point is that life isn't a zero sum game. It's not always about the big gestures. Henry knew that you were trying to be a better person. He was proud of you already just for trying." She pauses for a moment to allow her words to sink in. "If you had died three days trying to prove that to him, he never would have forgiven himself for it. He would have had to live with that his entire life."

"That's not what I wanted," Regina says softly. Her dark eyes meet Emma's green ones, frantic and urgent. "That's not what I wanted," she repeats.

"I know," Emma tells her. She stands up then and leaves the room, causing Regina's eyebrows to jump up into her hairline. It's such an odd way to leave a conversation. A moment later, though, the blonde re-enters with a glass of water and two white pills in her palm. She offers them to Regina. "You need sleep."

"Why do you continue to protect me?" the brunette asks. "Just for Henry?"

"Maybe or maybe I think somewhere along the way, you got a pretty fucked deal, and I think that even though you have a lot of making up to do, you deserve the chance to do exactly that. Maybe I think you have a right to be better than her."

"My mother."

"Yeah. You know I thought you were crazy…"

"Yes. She certainly owns that assessment," Regina answers, her voice just a little bit cold once again. She shudders then as she remembers the feel of her ribs cracking and the fear of being pulled back into her mothers' web of hatred. And then abruptly, she pales, her eyed widening. "Henry."

"What? What's wrong?" Emma asks, her eyebrows knitting together in worry.

"My mother…Emma, she told me that if I broke the deal, she'd come for him. She told me that she'd take his heart and…" Panic is practically surging through her words, and suddenly she's struggling to stand up and get out of the bed.

All of which is stopped by a light, but firm hand settling on her shoulder, and pushing her back down. "Hey, relax. Everything is okay."

"You don't know that. You don't know her…"

"You're right; I don't. Not really, but I do know two things. First, your mother thinks that you're dead. We did, too, until we got back here."

"And second? Because she will eventually figure out that I'm alive. And even if she doesn't, she'll come for you if she thinks you caused my death. She will blame you for taking me from you." She laughs then, a horrible pained humorless sound that makes Emma think of surrender and cold foster homes. "She loves me that much," the former queen finishes, stamping hard on the word "love".

"That's warped, you do know that, right, Regina? That's not love."

"It was her idea of it, and I'm afraid I didn't do much better," Regina answers.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not at all. Even you believe I tried to manipulate my son through death," the former queen grouses. The sound is almost petulant, which makes it clear to Emma that the pain the older woman is in right now is fairly severe.

"Not really," Emma shrugs. "I just needed you to give me an honest reaction instead of your Ice Queen bullshit."

"Charming. No pun intended. So I take it that means Henry hasn't forgiven me?"

"I don't know, but I know he wants to and is willing to if you allow him the opportunity to. He loves you, Regina. That's why the kiss worked. Because in spite of everything else, you are still his mother, and he loves you."

Emma pretends not to see the tears forming in Regina's eyes, even if she thinks for a moment that mentioning them would force the former queen to have to deal with her emotions for once. There will be time for that later. And so she waits.

Finally, thickly, "Thank you." Emma simply nods her head. Then, clearing her throat, and roughly wiping at her eyes, Regina says, "Give me the pills, Sheriff."

"Sick of me already?" Emma grins.

"Gods, yes." She takes the pills from Emma's cupped palm, downs them and then chases them with water. "Now, what was the second thing you 'know'?"

"The second thing is I'm not letting anyone hurt Henry. Ever," Emma promises her with a shrug that seems to be suggesting that the answer should have been obvious to even Regina. "Hell will freeze before I do. You have my word."

"Irritating White Knight that you are, I suppose I'll have to put my faith in you," Regina replies, her voice a bit of a drawl now. It's not the drugs yet; it's the emotional exhaustion of the conversation meeting the physical pain of her body.

"Yes, I guess you will. Get some rest, Your Majesty. Henry will be likely be dropping by here after school, and he's going to want to see you and talk to you. I'd really prefer you not be wincing in pain when he does."

"You know," Regina chuckles, the sound low and throaty. "I told your father that I rather liked the sound of him calling me that. I think I like you doing it more."

"Yeah? What'd he tell you when you said that?"

"Not to get used to it."

Emma shrugs her shoulders again, but there's a wry smile lifting the corners of her lips. "Have to call you something besides Madame Mayor now, right?"

"My name won't suffice?"

"Not when you piss me off. It's kind of like you calling me 'Miss Swan',"

"Mm. Go away, Miss Swan."

Emma chuckles. "Sleep well," she says, and then exits the room, closing the door behind her. It occurs to Regina then that this is Emma's room, which means that for the last several days, the sheriff has been displaced, sleeping elsewhere.

It's a simple gesture that means nothing, and yet Regina can't help but feel a tightening sensation in the middle of her chest because as insignificant as Emma surely perceives the hospitality and caretaking to be, those acts are far more than anyone else has ever done for the former queen.

They're acts of simple human kindness.

She swallows thickly, lays her head back on the pillow, and tries to block out the emotions sweeping through her. She blames the pain she's in for the complex feelings – the immense gratitude she feels for the woman who'd turned her life upside down – that she's experiencing. That has to be it, she thinks.

Because anything else – actually really feeling such - means she's exposed. And exposed means vulnerable. Better to close down as she always has.

Weird then, she thinks, that that's the last thing she actually wants to do.

As the drugs finally pull her down, she wonders if that would actually be so bad. If for once, it wouldn't be nice to allow herself to feel again. To love and be loved.

It's a nice thought.

* * *

The next person she sees when she wakes up in Snow. The woman is watching her from the doorway, an odd expression on her often overly emotive face.

"You look like you're thinking entirely too hard," Regina says, and it's probably entirely wrong to antagonize the person who'd helped to save your life, and is now allowing you to recuperate in their house, but old habits die incredibly hard.

"I am," Snow admits. She takes half a step into the room, and then stops.

Regina sits herself up in the bed. The pain is still blindingly present, but she supposes that she's adapted to it enough not to outwardly show its effects on her. She lifts her chin up and stares right at her former stepdaughter. "Is this the point when you tell me how very truly disappointed you are in me?"

"No. I think we're well past that point," Snow replies, meeting Regina's stare head-on. This isn't Mary Margaret for sure. "I'm trying to see what my daughter sees in you. Why she thinks you might actually be redeemable. And I'm trying to figure out why my husband believes that you're worth giving another chance to."

"And what, pray tell, do you see?"

"I don't know."

"Well that's not terribly heroic," Regina presses. "Aren't you Charmings supposed to always see the good in everyone. Even a monster like me."

"We will never make peace between us, will we?" Snow asks. And it's such a painfully honest question that for once, Regina can find no sarcasm within her.

"No, dear," she answers as truthfully as she can. "I think as you said that we are well beyond that point. There are some things that can't be forgiven." She tilts her head in an unusual display of acceptance of her own actions. "On both sides."

"So the best we can hope for is tolerance, then," Snow offers.

"What does that mean to you?"

"It means we end our war with each other. It means that for once, we let each other live in peace. It means that neither my husband nor I push for any further punishment beyond what has already been extended to you."

"You mean beyond me losing my position as mayor and becoming the town pariah?" Regina asks with a lifted eyebrow.

"Yes. And it means that I don't stand in the way of your relationship with Henry."

"As if you could," the former queen sneers.

"Please, Regina? Please, let me finish?"

Regina backs down slightly, then gestures with an impatient wave for the younger woman to continue.

"It means I don't stand in the way of you trying to make amends. Emma believes in you, she really thinks that you still have good in you. Henry does, too."

"Henry is the good in me, Snow," Regina says plainly. "I think we both know that."

"Then agree to my terms."

"You've only told me what you will do for me. In any truce, there are concessions on both sides. What is it that you want me to do for you?"

"I want you to make me a promise, and I want you to actually swear it on the thing you love the most," Snow answers, eyes blazing. She, of all people, knows exactly what she's saying. She knows what Regina had previously sacrificed to enact the curse, what she had given up to make it happen.

"And the promise is?"

"That you will protect my daughter and Henry."

"Your daughter?" Regina replies warily, a muscle in her cheek suddenly jumping around anxiously. "You make it sound like we're in a relationship."

"Sometimes I think the two of you are," Snow admits with something that resembles sadness and perhaps a bit of disgust. While there is no actual current romantic relationship between her daughter and the former queen, just the thought of them having a connection to each other makes Snow's heart ache.

"Mm," the brunette murmurs, but doesn't elaborate. "Did I not already prove that I would protect both to the death? Do you actually want me to again promise to do so on the life on my son? Isn't that...counterintuitive?"

"I don't really care what it is. I need to know that if your mother does find her way over here that you'll lay down your life again for them."

"Have you discussed these terms with your daughter?" Regina asks. "Because she threw a bit of a tantrum earlier about me doing exactly that."

"This is between you and me. And these are my terms. Do you accept them?"

Regina only hesitates for effect, but her decision had been made up far earlier in the conversation. Still, she allows for a brief staring contest before nodding, "I accept, and I swear it on the life of the thing – the person – I love the most that I will die before any harm comes to your daughter or my son. Good enough?"

"It'll have to be." She turns to leave, but it pulled back by the rumbling sound of her name being called out. She turns to look at the older woman.

"Tell me," Regina says, "Would you have preferred I'd died over there?"

"Yes," Snow answers quietly and almost immediately. A flicker of self-loathing and disgust falls over her face at the admission, but it's gone just as quickly.

Regina nods her head, appreciative of the honesty. "As would I have, dear. It would have been easier for everyone, I think."

They stare at each other for a long moment, as if actually seeing and understanding each other for the first time in a very long time. Finally, "Not everyone. You have an actual second chance now, Regina. You have people – my daughter specifically - who believe in you and will fight for your chance for redemption. Maybe it's time you start fighting for that, too."

And with that, she's gone.

Regina thinks that she's starting to get really tired of these super fun super intense bedside conversations. A glance up at the clock and she knows that there's still one more to go. And this one, well this one will be the hardest one of all.

* * *

By the time Henry arrives with Emma, it's close to four in the afternoon, and the drugs the blonde had provided her with earlier in the afternoon have pretty much fled her system. Still, though the pain she's in severe, she manages to smile throughout the entire conversation with Henry.

A conversation, which basically consists of her nearly eleven-year-old son treating her like she's a recovering drug addict. She supposes that the upside to the whole sorry affair is that at the end of the discussion (it's a fairly one-sided one, actually), Henry takes her hand, squeezes it, and assures her that she has support. He promises her that he'll be there to help her conquer her demons.

She doesn't tell him just how numbered her demons really are.

She just smiles and holds him when he puts himself in her arms. And she fights like hell not to cry when he tells her he loves her, and that he's glad the kiss worked. In that moment, he's so painfully young and innocent and it hurts.

It hurts because she wonders if she'll ever be worthy of that.

Still, she holds him and lets him hold her. She's grateful when Emma leaves the room and it's just the two of them, and Henry doesn't seem to want to break the embrace. She's thankful when he seems to understand just how much she needs to hear the words "I love you, Mom" over and over again.

When he finally leaves – he's been staying with Granny while she recuperates and until the housing situation is figured out – it takes everything she has not to beg him to come back. Perhaps it's her pride that stills her tongue.

Most likely, though, it's fear of rejection.

In any case, once he's gone, she takes a couple more pills and sleeps.

* * *

It's much later, close to ten at night, when Emma enters the room with a soft knock. She holds up a water bag to the former mayor who is sitting up in the bed, her head rested against several thick pillows. "Figured you might be hungry."

"Depends. Is that something you would eat?"

"Are you asking me if this is fast food?"

"Yes. I've seen what you eat, Miss Swan, and deliriously sick or not, I am not putting that garbage into my system." All said in a wonderfully haughty tone.

Which just seems to amuse the blonde sheriff much to Regina's annoyance.

"No junk food," Emma assures her." She wiggles the bag again. "Apparently it's your Tuesday night usual. Courtesy of Granny."

"You sure it's not poisoned?" Regina queries with a lifted eyebrow. "Granny has never exactly been what one might call subtle."

"Says the woman who used to prance around Fairytale Land wearing tight leather and corsets," Emma chuckles as she hands the bag over.

"First, we didn't actually call it Fairytale Land, and second, I did not prance," Regina retorts, but her eyes are already on the food in the bag. It smells heavenly, and for a moment, she doesn't actually care if it is poisoned.

"Funny, because I heard you did."

"You heard wrong."

"Mm. Maybe. Mary Margaret told me that you two talked."

Regina stiffens at this. "Did she now?"

"Yep. She said that the two of you came to an understanding, but she was oddly vague about the details."

"Ah."

"Is that your ever-so-queenly way of telling me that you plan to be just as vague?" It's quite clear that the blonde is deeply annoyed by this.

Annoyed enough that Regina actually considers playing with her food (proverbially speaking, of course) for a bit. But sighing, "You've heard the phrase, I'm sure. Loose lips sink ships. Considering all that has occurred between your mother and I, it's in both of our interests to keep our understanding to ourselves."

"If you say so."

"Don't be petulant, dear, it'll cause lines."

"Hilarious. How are you about the conversation with Henry?"

Regina sighs once more. Right now, she'd prefer far less talking and much more eating, but the blonde sheriff seems intent on babbling in her ear. "You're starting to remind me quite a bit of Dr. Hopper," she growls out.

"I'm sorry, I just…I saw the look on your face when he stared talking about addictions. Do you really not see magic as one?"

Regina pulls her hand from the bag, and then looks up at Emma with a curiously thoughtful expression. "I imagine that depends. It's only an addiction for me, I think, because I've never used it in any way that wasn't completely self-serving."

"You've never healed anyone?"

"Of course, I have. Someone I needed for something."

"Right. So do you think you could use magic without becoming Anakin again?"

"Who the hell is Anakin?"

"Have you really deprived our son of Star Wars?"

Regina thinks for a moment. "Oh wait a minute. Is that the cheesy movie with the heavily breathing man in the creepy black mask?"

"Yes. Darth Vader, and you are…more disturbing than I ever realized."

"Probably," Regina answers with a low chuckle. "But in answer to your question, I don't know, but I until I do, absolute abstinence from magic seems appropriate."

"Fair enough."

"Indeed. So, Miss Swan, what comes next? I assume once I'm able to stand up and walk, I'll be allowed to return to my home, yes?"

Emma nods her head. "Of course."

"And what about Henry?"

"We need to figure him out, don't we?"

"I want him to come home, but I expect that he wants to stay with you."

Emma laughs at that. "He might not want to once he realizes that we're sharing a two bedroom loft with his grandparents. I'm not sure I want to. I need to find me another place, but it might take me a couple of weeks because honestly, there's not a lot of vacancy around this town. It's kind of weird, actually."

"By design," Regina admits. And then, suddenly, she lets out a loud sigh.

"What?" Emma prompts.

"I think I'm high."

"Excuse me?" Emma asks. Then, frowning and turning around to look for the little brown bottle, "How many of the painkillers have you taken today?"

"Only four. Two from you and two after Henry was here."

"And you're still high? That was six hours ago."

"Clearly, I must be, because I'm about to invite you into my home."

"Your home?"

"Look, Sheriff, we both want to be around Henry. You need a short-term place to stay, and I need…I need my son. It's terrible, and I know that it's wrong to lean so much on him, but I need him." She looks right at Emma, and for a moment, the blonde sees the same honesty that she'd seen months earlier at the mines. She sees the desperate humanity that she'd seen just a few days earlier when Regina had tried to lay down her life in order to send everyone home.

"It'd only be temporary. Until I can find a place of my own. And then…"

"Then we can talk again," Regina offers.

"Why are you doing this?" Emma prompts. "I know that you don't want me in your home. You don't want me near Henry. So be honest for once, why?"

"As you said, the days of you not being in his life are over. I'd have saved us all a lot of time and pain had I listened to you then and not…reacted."

"Trying to put me to sleep with a poisoned turnover is your idea of a reaction?"

"It's actually quite a bit nicer than some of the other ideas I had," the brunette admits with a bit of a lazy smile. She should probably sheepish about this, but the shocked look on the blonde's face is enough to deepen her smile into a grin.

"I'll keep that in mind," Emma drawls. "You really think that we can live together without trying to kill each other?"

"Until you find a place of your own, I think we can manage."

"You actually are high, aren't you?"

Regina laughs at that. It's low and rich, and to her surprise, Emma finds that she actually likes the sound. Probably more than she should.

"Sheriff, I'm quite hungry, and quite tired. I'm going to eat this wonderful sandwich that you brought me, and then I'm going to down two more of those even more wonderful pills. You may take your leave, dear."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

"I really do like that."

This time it's Emma's turn to laugh.

"By the way," Regina says as the blonde steps towards the door. "Where are you sleeping these days? Since, I'm here on this impossibly uncomfortable bed."

"Pretending you didn't just insult the hospitality that you're being given, I'm sleeping on the couch. And yes, you do owe me for that."

"Add it to my list."

"Count on it."

Regina hears the door close a moment later. It's been a hell of a day all the way around. Two different truces, two different agreements.

That the agreements stand somewhat in opposition of each other is largely irrelevant. But then, she realizes with a bit of surprise, Snow had never actually needed to make her guarantee Emma and Henry's safety. From the moment Emma had awoken Henry with a light tearful kiss upon his forehead – saving his life in the process – Regina had been indebted to the infuriating blonde woman. Emma having saved her from the wraith had just deepened the debt.

It's a debt that she's not sure she can ever repay just as she's not sure she believes that she can ever really find redemption or make amends.

What she does know, however, is that for the first time in a very long time, she's willing to try. For the first time since magic entered her life, she's willing to entertain thoughts besides those of hatred and vengeance and power.

She looks down at her hand, feels around the palm with her fingers. There's nothing there. The mark of the wraith had truly disappeared with her death.

That true love had finally touched her and brought her back, well apparently unlike her, wraith's don't get a second go at their marks.

They don't get a second chance.

She'd always believed Storybrooke to be hers, but now she understands that this – with Henry and Emma's support - is her second chance. Her fresh start.

Here and now.

She closes her once-marked palm slowly, and quietly, with the smallest of smiles, accepts the freedom that has for the first time been afforded her.

It feels good.

She, for once, feels like there even be some good left in her.

And for now – for this night – that's enough.

**-Fin**


End file.
